


A Place Apart

by Metalduck



Series: The Dragon King's Court [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure is still cool though, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus Harry Potter, BAMF Harry Potter, Harry is kind of done, He really needs to learn ALL the things, It's time for a vacation from WGB, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Mostly canon compliant until summer before 4th year, OP Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Some differences here and there, Then we go off rails, This fic has a theme song now, Thoughts/Discussion about painful things, it's Make it Better by Amaranthe, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 201,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalduck/pseuds/Metalduck
Summary: Sick of the Dursleys and resolved to missing his few friends if it means getting away from the people of the Wizarding World and their nosy whispers, Harry gets the idea to leave it all behind for a while, just a bit, just for a rest. Like a camping trip, except he’ll take enough provisions for a year or so...maybe some plants, seeds and things for a little garden. Maybe some time away from the things that weigh him down will help the constant highs and lows he’s been feeling for a while now. Just a little break.(Or, the one where Harry says TTFN and takes himself off on an indefinite vacation and upsets a few very careful plans.)
Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Series: The Dragon King's Court [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191782
Comments: 2473
Kudos: 2992
Collections: Brilliant Recs - Reread at any time, Gringotts Goblins being Awesome, Harry Potter Goes Away (Time travel/accidents/escapes and others), Not to be misplaced, Stories That Deserve More, Top 10%, Waiting for updates, Works worth reading a million times over





	1. The Idea, the Plan, the Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epiphany, the moment the thought first enters existence. Something that rapidly becomes an avalanche.
> 
> Really, no one should be surprised, they wouldn't put up with it, so why should he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this struck me about a day and a bit ago and it wouldn't leave me alone. This current WIP begins after the events of Prisoner of Azkaban during the summer before Harry is due back at Hogwarts for his fourth year. So this is before people start dying left and right on him. Also before a lot of the nasty political shite *coughUmbrigecoughFudgecough*. Basically we're jumping into a point where Harry still has hope of a bright and happy future with all his friends. (I'm so so sorry, just writing that hurt urgh)
> 
> The idea was kind of basic 'in a linear story the entire work is narrowed down and revolves around a central figure and their supporters vs the big bad they have to overcome. So what happens to an actual world when the linchpin for that linear story's progression up and decides to do their own thing because the thing they were doing before was just kind of shit?'
> 
> Insert a couple of odd deals and surprisingly helpful people (because I refuse to let a race of beings be pigeon holed into a group of irredeemable greedy, stab happy bastards). That and attempts to give the different races and their cultures a little more depth.

#### August 3rd, 1994 - Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

The Idea, when it hits him in the middle of weeding the front of number 4 Privet Drive, seems like such an obvious solution to the problems he’d been trying not to think about for longer than he’d care to consider.

The noon day sun is beating down on his back, blazing hot and turning the air thick as syrup.

He’d been at it for hours, dirt and the odd broken off bit of weed and grass sticking to his warm brown arms. Dark brown earth packed under his nails from the few times a weed had been particularly stubborn and he’d had to dig out the roots, all for want of the tools he’d been denied the use of.

 _Those are your aunts_ , he was told, he had to make do once again with just his bare hands and a small but sturdy stick he’d found wedged near the fenceline by the footpath.

But then the Idea popped into mind as he grumbled to himself - something that was becoming more and more frequent as the years went by- about the unfairness of it all. Worked like a slave in a place that should have been home, beaten and starved for failure to comply, or if one of the Dursleys had had a bad day and wanted someone to punish, regardless of any actual deservedness on his part. Then finding a home of sorts with people just like him that supposedly wanted him, but only when it was convenient to them.

Thrown up against trolls, murderous teachers, bullies and worse. Sent right back to a place he knew realistically he should not be, that no child should be. Somewhere just as unsafe in its own way as the place he had wanted so desperately to call Home. 

_Why not leave them all behind?_

_Why not go somewhere **new**?_

He knew through painful lessons how to cook, clean and care for a home. How to mend clothes, how to recognise poisonous plants both magical and muggle - both from school lessons and painful experiences from desperate hunger- enough certainly, to know what to avoid and what was safe to eat if he should need to forage a little. He could buy a tent and set out to somewhere far enough away that no one would bother him, at least until he was bored of it and wanted to come back.

As if that would ever happen.

The thought that maybe he should talk it over with someone. Send a letter to Ron or Hermione, maybe try to get one to Sirius or Professor Lupin since the man had been so willing to chat with him outside of classes.

But he quickly realised if he were to stop and talk it over with someone, he knew he’d be summarily talked out of it, his perfect solution smashed to bits with all the reasons why he absolutely should not follow along with the Idea. That there are tens or hundreds of reasons why it was a bad idea. That it was short sighted, irresponsible or selfish. Especially if the person on the other end was Hermione. She always seemed to know exactly what to say to make all his and Ron’s great ideas seem so very dull and silly.

But young Harry was full of all the grim determination and confidence a boy of fourteen with a less than ideal upbringing and home life could muster. So he set about finishing up the yard while he turned it over in his head, planning out the hows and whats and wheres of the Idea as it rapidly went from an Idea to The Plan.

After all, the last time he had tried to run away at the tender age of six, after Dudley and his new friends had taken turns pushing him over on the playground, telling him that he should just stay down since it was where he belonged.

It had ended with him being found and taken right back to the Dursleys, stomach empty and both pride and backside smarting something fierce. Not to mention the other bits. Neither his aunt or uncle had been particularly pleased with him or the event in question.

Although if you asked him, the only thing they were unhappy about really, was that he hadn’t succeeded. Ending up right back where he started from and bringing the curious attention of the police to the Dursleys, however short lived that attention had been.

But now. Oh now he was older, wiser and had the best tool available.

He had magic, and he had already learned a lot of ways he could use it too.

He would have to get to the goblin bank, Gringotts, and make a pretty hefty withdrawal since he needed to buy plenty of food, water and other things to last him.

That thought of course led into another.

He was already quite good at taking care of plants thanks to having to keep up his aunts prized garden, surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to buy a bunch of different seeds and plants. Then he could put together a garden that was all his own and grow his own food.

Harry considered that for a moment before nodding to himself, coming to the conclusion that if he did it right and got a bit lucky then he could have food ready to harvest year round if he was lucky, which in turn would make the food he brought with him last that much longer. Especially when he factored in the preservation charm that they’d been taught the previous year, though admittedly he hadn’t quite mastered it as well as Hermione had. But if he was out on his own, he’d surely get plenty of practice. Enough to get it down to the same thoughtless action Hermione seemed to manage.

The last of the weeds pulled and tossed in the compost in the backyard, out of sight from any passerby who might stop to admire the garden - though Harry wasn’t sure just who aunt Petunia thought would go walking past, much less care about where the comport was - Harry did a last minute check to make sure there was nothing out of place before quietly letting himself into the laundry via the back door and set to scrubbing the dirt from his hands.

It was round about midday so he was positive the bank would be open, though come to think of it, he hadn’t noticed any signs displaying trading hours like most of the other shops that lined Diagon Alley and its neighbouring streets that made up the wizarding shopping district. Maybe it was one of those few places that stayed open all day and night. 

_Probably do_ , he thought absently, _anything to make more money._

Job done he shut the tap off, dried his arms on the dingy old towel his aunt kept aside for his use and used it to wipe down the sink, faucet and tap just in case someone decided he had left a mess and made him scrub the whole laundry from top to bottom in order to make up for it.

The last time he’d had to do that it hadn’t even been him that made the mess, but Dudley coming in from playing in the yard with Piers. But it was fine, soon he wouldn’t have to clean up after anyone else but himself then the Dursleys would have to get used to picking up after themselves and he could cook the bacon as crispy as he wanted without having to worry about being smacked upside the head with the frypan. Or having someone shave him mostly bald because they thought his hair looked scruffy. Or point and whisper when he walked past. Stare at his scar. Make snide comments about him or his schoolwork. Or his dreams.

Peeking his head out of the laundry to make sure his aunt was still out at the salon, Harry made his way over to the cupboard under the stairs and quickly picked the lock, glad that he had learned how from Fred and George so he wouldn’t have to resort to using his magic so soon and possibly drawing unwanted attention before he’d even gotten anywhere. That would just be embarrassing after having come this far in deciding to leave.

Rummaging through his trunk he pulled out his school books, wand, cloak, cauldron and the few wizarding coins he had left from the previous years shopping trip.

Gazing down at the lot he pondered over the small pile for a bit.

Having a trunk would make it easier to carry a lot of things true, but his school trunk was very basic, for all that it was proudly marked with his initials.

Hagrid had talked him out of buying any of the fancier options the salesman had originally posed to him when they’d done his first year shopping, stating limited funds and the fact that it really only needed to carry his books for the year and some clothes. Which had all made sense at the time. Less so now, though.

To make his plan work, he realised he was going to need to get his hands on one of the really fancy trunks that had lots of storage compartments and hidden charms worked into them. Otherwise he had no hope of carting around all the essentials he was going to be buying.

That in mind he ran up to his room to sort through Dudleys old things, most of which had been either broken or cast off in favour of newer and shinier items. Returning with an old navy blue backpack and a cream linen library bag that had never actually gotten any use he set to work squeezing his things into the two bags before zipping up the backpack and pulling the drawstring on the library bag closed. Then with a last look at his trunk and the bits and bobs still in it he closed it with a sigh and locked the cupboard door again. Hoping that it would help keep the Dursleys from noticing that anything was different for a little while.

Though he’s pretty sure it’ll take them a while since the only time they look at the cupboard under the stairs anymore was to make sure it was locked between bouts of throwing something of his away in there.

Jogging back up to his room he pulled out his least ratty jumper and tied it off around his waist. It was still a few sizes too big for him, but it was still relatively thick. The weather outside was much too warm to be wearing it and doing so would only draw more attention, but he reasoned that he’d probably be happy to have it later in the evening. Especially since he hadn’t quite come to a decision just yet in regards to where he was going to end up once he made his grand escape.

That done, he picked up his two pilfered bags, staggering a little under the heavy weight, gave the place a last look around before stepping out the back door and making his way to the shed uncle Vernon kept Hedwig locked away during the summers. From now on no one would be locking her up. That thought alone did wonders to wipe away the scowl that had started to settle on his face at the sight of the padlock and he made quick work of picking it, mentally thanking the Weasley twins once more for the valuable skill.

Inside was just as dusty and cluttered as it always was, stuffy and uncomfortable with the summer heat. The lawn mower took up the most space along with Dudleys old bikes that he had ridden once or twice over various summers with his gang of bullies before being put away and discarded. Hedwig's cage sat to one side, the door open so the snowy owl could get out and hunt so she wouldn’t starve and die in the shed. Hedwig herself was instead perched on the handle of the mower, watching him attentively as he poked his head inside.

He smiled happily at her, holding out an arm for her to light upon his wrist, ignoring the painful prick of her talons in favor of carefully petting her soft feathers. “Hey girl, it’s time to go. I’m leaving here now and I’m going to do a lot of travelling before I can stop. Do you think you’ll be able to follow along, find me when I stop?”

A soft chirrup answered him and his smile widened.

“Always such a clever girl. I’m not going to be coming back here, not ever. We’ll find somewhere new to live. Somewhere nice where no one can hurt us, yeah?” He prompted, slowly stepping back out of the shed so he wouldn’t upset her perch on his arm. “I need to run some errands first, get food and other things, but then we’ll be gone. We’ll be free.”

Another soft chirp echoed his words and she nipped gently at his fingers before taking flight. Harry watched her go for a little while before shaking his head and turning back to lock the shed door. “Now to get the Knight Bus to the alley and into Gringotts.” He muttered to himself as he hitched up the straps of the backpack and set out to the front of the street.

A raised wand and a wish had the bus jerking to a stop in front of the house and he grinned up at the driver as he tucked away his wand and climbed onto the triple-decker bus. “Good afternoon, Mr. Shunpike, Ernie. I need help getting to Diagon Alley.”

Stan the conductor gave him a nod and held out a hand. “Easy as pie, eleven sickles will take you there in a jiffy.”

Carefully counting out the fare Harry handed it over and headed past to quickly find himself a seat, finding himself thrown into one as the bus took off at breakneck speed, starting the unbolted chairs on their frantic dance around the bus. Luckily enough there wasn’t anyone else riding on the bottom level. Though admittedly he hadn’t been able to see if anyone else was on the top two levels of the bus. Since the bus travelled on a first come first served basis he would have to wait for anyone else riding to be dropped off at their destination first. On the plus side usually only witches or wizards that couldn’t floo or apparate for whatever reason ended up taking the bus, which meant realistically very few people did use the Knight Bus to get about. That and the Leaky Cauldron at the start of Diagon Alley with its public floo was the stop of choice for a lot of people. So maybe he’d get lucky that way too.

The subject of travel got Harry thinking. How best to make his way to parts unknown?

He had his cloak so he would be able to avoid being seen if he needed to travel by broom - although that in itself meant one of his stops after Gringotts to buy a new broom since his old one had been smashed to bits - but he imagined that flying long distances on a broom would get old very quickly.

Portkeys, which according to Professor Flitwick required some very delicate and intricate charm work to function, were supposedly monitored by the Ministry of Magic which would make one awkward to acquire. Especially when it came time to explain why he wanted one. There too was the fact that portkeys were apparently keyed into very specific locations and since he hadn’t decided yet on exactly where he wanted to escape to...well getting a portkey had several issues, realistically. The floo network was exactly that, a web of connected buildings, most very local and mostly linking private residences and a small handful of public venues. Nothing remotely close to what he’d need.

Besides, floo travel was terrible and he’d really prefer to avoid it if at all possible, thanks very much.

Getting on a plane would be incredibly awkward, though he could probably fib his way through why he was travelling alone at the ancient age of fourteen. There was still the trouble of actually buying a ticket and figuring out which city or even country he could fly to that he wouldn’t be found out and shipped right back.

Hopping on a train wasn’t a bad idea, given how connected Europe was. He’d even gotten some practice with long train rides thanks to taking the Hogwarts Express each year. He could probably just travel along until the end of the line before jumping off onto a new train, repeating the process several times before picking somewhere to settle in. It wasn’t even too uncommon to see teens travelling via train over summer to visit friends or family. He could just tell anyone curious that he was meeting up with a friend and their parents to go camping. It would be decently cheap too. At least compared to international air fare.

Harry was shot out of his thoughts when the bus jerked to a sudden stop. It seemed to him that he’d barely sat down. He’d honestly forgotten just how fast the Knight Bus travelled in the time since his first trip the year before.

“The Leaky Cauldron!” Stan called from the front of the bus.

Scrambling to get his feet under him and double checking that he had everything, Harry quickly moved to the door, giving both wizards a wave in thanks as he stepped down and off the bus. No sooner had both feet touched down on the pavement then the purple wonder was taking off again, gone in a zip to rescue some other stranded witch or wizard.

Taking a moment to carefully make sure his hair - which had grown out a fair bit - was concealing his telltale scar, Harry rucked up his backs, tightened his jumper around his waist and pushed his way into the pub. He’d considered briefly wearing his cloak to keep him hidden from the nosy gossipers. In the end though he’d decided against it. The last thing he needed was the commotion it would cause if the robe slipped or someone stepped on the hem.

It turned out to be a smart move when the pub turned out to be just as crowded as he had thought it would be, packed full of people stopping in for lunch and a pint while they went about their own business. He gingerly picked his way through the crowd, careful to keep his head down, making his way to the wall that separated the Leaky from Diagon Alley proper, reaching it just in time to duck through the entry behind another wizard, no doubt on his way back to work from his own lunch. At least Harry thought so, based on the suit he seemed to be wearing under his robes.

Keeping his head down Harry carefully navigated the bustling alleyway, glad for how close the bank was to the pub since it kept him from wading through the entirety of the shopping district and its patrons. As it was he halfway jogged up the pristine white stairs up to the double doors with their ominous poem written out in precise gold lettering. Stepping inside he quickly scanned the tellers and made his way briskly to the first one that appeared to be free.

The small figure on the other side of the bench peered down its nose at him and arched a shaggy eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’d like to speak with my account manager...discretely please.” Harry answered quietly, raising his voice just enough to be heard across the small distance that separated them. 

The eyebrow stayed raised as the goblin teller stared down at him. He continued to do so for a long moment after Harry raised a hand to brush his fringe aside for a moment so his scar could be seen before covering it over again. “Indeed.” The goblin grumbled before huffing. “Very well, if sir will follow assistant Hooktooth, he will lead you to the appropriate office.”

He waved absently to a goblin dressed in the scarlet and gold uniform most Gringotts employees wore that came around to stand next to Harry, taking his beady black eyes from Harry to say something sharp to him in Goobledygook before turning away from them both in clear dismissal. In turn the goblin, apparently called Hooktooth cleared his throat to make sure he had Harry’s attention before taking off, leading the way to a side door, off the main floor. Stepping quickly into place behind his guide Harry followed along without comment, passing through the doorway and into a very long winding hallway that seemed just as askew as the outside of the bank, for all that it wobbled side to side as it led down.

There weren’t any portraits on the walls, like he remembers seeing the couple of times he’d had to accompany aunt Petunia when she ran errands - if only so he was available to carry all the groceries so she wouldn’t have to - about town during the day. In the bank his aunt went to there were pictures of people on the walls, employees or managers and the like, along with the odd landscape piece that was maybe meant to be peaceful. Gringotts had landscapes, not just any landscapes though. Dotting the walls at appropriate intervals were large framed canvases with great battles painted onto them, the figures in it charging at each other, weapons clashing violently.

In a word. Epic.

They stopped outside one of the many doors, Hooktooth rapping on it sharply then sticking his head in after an equally sharp voice answered. A moment later he drew back and held the door open for Harry to step through, closing it firmly behind him.

“Mr. Potter, please be seated.”

Glancing towards the desk that was situated in the centre of the room, Harry spotted the same goblin that had taken him down to his vault on his very first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. He was well dressed as far as Harry could see, a white shirt, a tie of some sort and a jacket. He was also quite a bit smaller than the dark wood desk he was sitting behind. And dwarfed again by the sheer size of the room that really shouldn’t be anywhere near the size it was given how close the doors in the hall had been to each other. You could have had five Hagrids lying down, head to foot from one side of the room to the other, meanwhile on the outside you just might fit a single Ron between the doors. Standing up. The room itself was the same dark wood as the desk, as was the few bookshelves and wooden cabinets that lined one wall. The rest of the wall space was taken up with a multitude of office filing cabinets, dozens of them wrapping around the room, hugging the walls from floor to ceiling. It was a rather bland room all things considered, the only thing giving it any real colour was the red rug and armchairs. The rest was a wash of dark brown and grey. And did he mention, bigger than it should have been?

He never got tired of seeing magic in action, especially not so casually.

Just a bit of reality warping, no biggy.

Harry moved forward to sink carefully into one of the two deep red armchairs on the opposite side of the desk to the goblin, settling his heavy bags down softly beside him.

“Now, what brings you to Gringotts, alone and weeks before school shopping occurs?” The goblin, Griphook, Harry recalled, asked mildly.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Harry leaned forward just a little. “I don’t have my vault key, but I need to make a withdrawal and it will probably be a lot of money. I need to buy a lot of things.” He explained, meeting the smaller figures' expectant gaze.

An eyebrow raised. “And where, Mr. Potter, is your vault key?”

“I think maybe Hagrid or Professor Dumbledor have it, sir. I’m not sure really, I’ve never actually had it, since coming into the magic world someone else always has it, they bring it out for long enough to take out money to buy my school things and then it's gone again. I don’t know where it’s kept, I don’t know if people are using it for things besides my school things, I don’t know anything and no one will tell me.” Harry explained, not bothering to push down the frustration and confusion he usually felt when he thought about it.

Griphook hummed, slipping out of his chair to approach one of the many filing cabinets that lined the room, pulling open a drawer that like the room was much bigger than it should have been, coming out nearly seven feet before stopping. He walked his clawed fingers up a section of the files before extracting one and nudging the drawer shut again, which it did with a snap. Harry watched as he strolled back to his chair, file in hand and hopped back into it, spreading the file open revealing a small stack of papers and a small velvet bag. He rifled through the papers before pulling out one in particular and scanning it.

“According to your customer file, Albus Percival Wulfuric Brian Dumbledore is listed as your legal guardian in regards to everything magical related, up to and including your education and accounts with Gringotts Bank and its associated services.” The goblin stated absently while he read. “As such he does have the power to hold onto your vault key if you should happen to be deemed too young or similarly unable to manage your own accounts.”

Harry frowned at that, expression scrunching up in confusion. “How can my headmaster be my guardian?” He demanded crossly. “I didn’t even meet him until my first day at Hogwarts. If he was really my guardian then he shouldn’t make my go back to stay at the Dursleys. He said it’s where I’m safest but I can think of loads of places that are safer than a place where I’m treated like a slave, beaten and starved just because they don’t like me ‘cos I’m magic.”

There was a long bead of silence as they both stared at each other before Griphook set down the page he’d been reading from and leaned forward. “If that’s true Mr. Potter, and you are being made to stay in an unsafe environment then it is grounds for an immediate suspension of Mr. Dumbledore's position as your guardian.”

“I wouldn’t lie about that!” Harry burst out, frowning at the goblin.

Ideally he would have been able to get through the conversation and get his needs taken care of without throwing anyone under the bus, and certainly not the old, old, headmaster who had always seemed so kind. But he didn’t know anything about the professor supposedly being his guardian. He had been told that the headmaster was responsible at least in part for his education and wellbeing at the school, but had assumed it was a blanket statement for all students since that was a headmasters or principles job along with managing the teachers and other stuff that mostly went over Harry’s head since he had no real interest in the topic. Although, the less said about some of his teachers was probably for the best.

“Implying you would lie about other things?” Griphook queried, a sharp grin with too many teeth appearing for a moment.

“Sometimes telling a lie means I get to eat.” Harry shot back, annoyed that his character was being called into question and that he was having to be so candid about a topic he didn’t much like to think about, let alone discuss with someone he didn’t really know.

The goblin account manager starred across the gap between them for several long moments, obviously weighing what Harry had said and probably how he’d said it before finally sitting back in his chair, reaching for a stamp that had been sitting innocently along with several others to one side of the large desk. Without pause he brought it down roughly on the top most page which had presumably contained the information regarding anyone else besides Harry himself who had legal access to his vaults. “I am stripping access to your account from anyone besides yourself. I assume given the apparent lack of care regarding your welfare and the fact that you said you had not met Mr. Dumbledore before attending Hogwarts, that you have not been instructed in the care and management of your personal and house finances?”

“Ah, no.”

Griphook huffed a very gravely, put upon sigh and picked up the velvet back that had been in the rather plain looking file with his account papers. Pulling the black ties loose he reached inside and pulled out a black square jewellery box then set it on the desk as close as he could reach to Harry. “Put that on while I retrieve a few things you’ll need.” He instructed gruffly.

Brows raised at the shift in attitude, Harry reached for the box, watching the goblin get up and move to a cabinet positioned to one side before pulling the box towards himself and flipping it open. Inside, resting snuggly on a black velvet covered cushion was a rather ornate looking ring. An old ornate looking ring. It had a thick gold band and a flat face with a crest on it depicting a black shield, three odd star shapes and a band of little black tree looking things with dots above them. Above the shield stood a griffin and what he remembered from his Care of Magical Creatures class as a hippocampus, both reared back on either side of a gold knights helmet.

“Which finger should I put it on?” Harry asked absently, staring at the ring that managed to be large but not overly clunky. “It’s a bit big?”

“That, Mr. Potter is the Potter signet ring. Tradition dictates that it should be worn on the pinky finger of your non-dominant hand with the bottom of the ring pointing outwards, so if you are right handed like most of the populus, you will be wearing it on your left hand pinky.” The goblin explained as he moved back and forth around the room, stacking several books on the edge of his desk. “The ring is goblin wrought and well charmed. It will adjust its size automatically to provide the most comfortable but sturdy fit. You needn’t fear it coming off accidentally.”

“Oh...that’s good, I think.” He muttered back, shifting the suddenly heavy feeling piece of jewellery in his hands before slipping it onto his pinky, watching and feeling the gold band shrink down into a snug fit. A warm feeling washed over him, skin prickling as he stared at the little hunk of his family now secure on his own hand.

“Now that I know beyond any reasonable doubt you are indeed Harry James Hyperion Potter, let us discuss the real reason you’ve come to Gringotts today.” Griphook stated flatly as he levied himself back up into his chair, the last of the books and pieces he had been fetching from about the room sitting in a row to one side of the large desk.

“I told you I came to make a withdra...wait, what?” Harry blinked then frowned. “Hyperion? And what do you mean now that you know?”

“Without your vault key you were led to me in order to confirm your identity, which I have done. Both because a curse scar of the sort you carry with you cannot be falsified by enchantment, potion or any other more common means. And because your heart would have stopped if you had been anyone else and had tried to don the Lord's signet of a most ancient house.” Griphook told him blandly, though his eyes were narrowed just slightly and the corner of his lips tilted just so in a shift that Harry had no trouble recognising the edge of malicious mirth to his craggy features, even as he squawked at the thought that just putting a ring on could have killed him.

“As for your name, you are listed quite clearly upon your birth and naming certification as Harry James Hyperion Potter. Named thus in honor of your paternal great-grandfather Henry Aluicius Montgomery Potter, for your father James Fleamont Oswalt Potter and in honor of your godfather via the naming conventions of the most ancient and noble house of Black. They have a long standing tradition of naming their offspring for celestial bodies, typically stars. In this instance Hyperion being the name of a sun. There is great power in names, something many wizards forget, although you’ll find only families born into our world use this particular naming system.”

“What if I’d been born a girl?”

“Then you would have been named in honor of the women of your line, a first name traditionally taken from an ancestor, your mother's name, a name that honors your godmother and her role in your life and finally your family name. With the right knowledge an individual can use the names they are gifted at birth to summon up more power, old power for use in difficult spellwork, particularly rituals.” The banker informed him before pointing to one of the stacks of books. “Given what you said about your current home situation I took the liberty of including books on house politics, finances, traditions and history. Now that you are Lord of your house it is crucial that you learn these things as quickly as possible.”

Harry gave the other a nod of his head, going over the influx of information before he frowned. “‘Lord’, I thought you couldn’t claim a title or be head of your house until you came of age. At least that’s what my friend told me.”

“Usually that would be the case. However that time period was implemented to ensure line of succession and the welfare of a house's heirs. If there is someone of that house old enough to see to the day to day business while the next in line is under a certain age, even if that person is not of the main line, then they are expected by law to act as proxy and regent. Becoming a guardian or custodian for the house and its line until such a time as they are no longer needed. These ‘rules’ do not however apply when a house has been rendered down to just a single remaining member. In these instances, rare though they may be, that individual automatically ascends to the position of Lord or Lady and are afforded the same rights and privileges granted to any other ruling Lord or Lady of an ancient or noble house. The moment you donned your signet you made this legal and binding as far as the laws and customs of our world are concerned.” Griphook explained at length, watching Harry carefully as he did so. Likely to make sure he was actually listening and processing it all.

And it was a lot to take in. He had another name he hadn’t even known about. He was apparently the last magical Potter in the world if the title had defaulted to him the moment his parents had died, at least that’s what he thought his account manager was getting at. The fact that just putting on the ring made him just like…

Harry blinked. “Wait, does this mean I’m technically an adult now?” He asked, both eyebrows making a valiant effort to reach his hairline. “You said I had the same rights and privileges as any other Lord or Lady. If most other people only become head of their house as an adult, does that mean I’m legally an adult too?”

Griphook grinned back at him, obviously pleased that he had made the connection and nodded. “Exactly so. As of today you are free to make your own decisions, which neatly takes care of your concerns regarding your currently unfavourable living arrangements.”

Unable to help himself, a huff of a laugh escaped Harry as he fell back into his chair. It was quickly followed by another and another. Laugh after laugh spilled out of him in a relieved wave until the sound choked off, settling thick in his throat, eyes prickling as it really sank in. Freedom. No more Dursleys. No more ‘I’m sorry, dear boy’. Quickly he reached up to rub the moisture from his eyes and roughly cleared his throat, pushing himself up into a proper sitting position. “You know, I came here to get some money out so I could buy a new trunk and fill it with food and plants and books. I’d planned to run as far away as I could get myself, at least until I was seventeen or eighteen and no one could tell me what to do anymore. So no one could make me go back to living with my aunt and uncle...I don’t know what to do now.” He confessed in an emotion rough but quiet voice. “I don’t know where to go.”

They slipped into silence each weighing the events of their meeting thus far and what it meant going forward. Or at least Harry was. He was pretty sure the goblin already had it all figured out and was just giving him time to really digest it all in the form of a little professional courtesy. Either way, he was glad for the thoughtful silence. He’d been so set on The Plan, so sure it was his only option going forward that now it wasn’t really necessary he felt rather adrift.

As a legal adult he had full access to the Potter vault and anything tied to it, he could go out right this very moment, find himself a realtor and buy himself a flat somewhere, furnish it however he wanted and live there for the rest of his life if he really wanted to.

He could even travel with relative ease without having to avoid the magical world for fear that someone would recognise him and send him right back where he started from. He could go to Venice and ride those little boats around the city, or to China and walk the Great Wall. He could fly to Australia or Hawaii and learn to surf on the beaches that always looked so perfect in the adverts. Or go to Africa and see the cradle of life on Earth, or the pyramids and things that the Weasleys had gotten to explore during their own vacation. He could go anywhere.

He could go anywhere.

So where did you go when there’s no real limit to his options.

Griphook cleared his throat to grab his attention. “If I could make a suggestion. There’s no need to discard your previous plans to distance yourself from the area for a period of time. On the contrary, giving yourself space to learn and grow at your own pace is a valuable opportunity few get the chance to enjoy. In fact Gringotts does have a few business ventures in need of a partner of reputable standing and means, ventures that would take you away from the mainland and the immediate complications of the current political climate.” He hedged, beady eyes watching Harry intently, no doubt to try and gauge whether he was really interested or not.

“What kind of ventures?”

“The goblin nation and by extension Gringotts Wizard Bank has over the last several thousand years acquired several rather sizable plots of territory via acts of conquest. Most of these house resource mines and serve as extensions of our native territories in this realm, allowing our people to continue to grow and flourish. There are some however that are large enough to sustain a decent population but are not so rich in the resources we place value in. Their value is limited for the most part to their base land mass and as such are of lesser value to our people than they would be to your own who largely spread out rather than down.” Griphook explained, linking his sharp clawed fingers together and letting them rest on the desk before him. “Given the successes and the wealth we have seen grow from the settlements of humans worldwide, our chieftains and our King have considered establishing these territories as joint settlements, allowing humans and other races to make their homes there as a new magical community.”

Harry sat forward, immediately enchanted with the prospect of something new being built in a world that was by and large stuck several centuries in the past depending on where you visited. “That sounds amazing, why haven’t you done it before?” He asked the other, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“By and large the majority of the reasons can be traced back to most humans in power being unwilling to work with anyone not strictly human themselves. Those that would be interested either don’t have the capital required to go forward or lack the spine necessary to take the risk. And it would be a risk, young Lord Potter. An undertaking of this magnitude is always full of potential pitfalls, no matter how well intentioned or well planned it may begin. The person or people that lead such an expedition would have to go in with minimal support or infrastructure in place. There will be no hospitals should they fall ill or run afoul of a native beast. No ready home to protect them from the elements. The lack of such safety measures is more than most can stomach.” Griphook replied with a shrug, though there was a subtle shift to his features that gave Harry the impression that he didn’t think very highly of those people at all. “If you are interested, Gringotts is willing to front half of the cost for initial settlement and our people would send a group of miners and warriors to help safeguard the chosen build site and to begin work on a deep cavern system that any of our people willing to live there would make their home.”

Considering how quickly he had set his mind to his original plan to run away just an hour or two ago, Harry wasn’t exactly shocked to find himself agreeing with the offer, accepting it as something that sounded reasonable. “You’re not worried about putting up so much money?”

Griphook gave his head a shake. “Not in the least, if we couldn’t afford to lose the gold we would not consider the venture to begin with. And that aside the money and other resources are an investment that will in time be returned in full via investors looking to cash in on a new and exciting community, both to us in terms of deals and fees for services and to yourself as well in the form of taxes and tithes.”

“To me?” Harry blinked, not having thought that far ahead.

“Of course, being the primary wizard investor in this instance you and any family you have after you will be afforded the place at the head of the visible power structure. In looser terms, the Potter magical family would take over ownership of the land, effectively becoming King of the settled territory. We would need to draft an alliance between house Potter and the goblin nation to ensure neither you nor your descendants use the land as a fortress to wage war with us and that the terms of trade are favourable to us. But afterward we would be ceding control to you in order to reap the benefits from the background.”

“Oh.” Harry said softly, blinking rapidly at the shock of it all. “I guess I really need to study up on laws and politics then...king…”

“King.” Griphook agreed. “I need you to understand Lord Potter, that I’m not making this offer lightly. We have been watching you most keenly since you stepped foot back into our world and so far, you’ve handled yourself well. Admirably even, given the obvious holes in your education and upbringing. Your willingness to meet those of other races without prejudice, to treat them as equal speaks well of you. Certainly I wouldn’t have made this offer to you if you did not, regardless of any other abilities or resources.”

He wet his lips, hands squeezing and relaxing in his lap all the while pushing the fact that he was maybe definitely being spied on at least some of the time and instead focused on the possibility, the offer of something new, something his. Someplace where - barring a few things he didn’t really care about - he made all the rules. Somewhere he could make sure everyone went to bed with a full belly and no one was forced to live in a cupboard with only spiders for friends and smelly old boots for company. He could be the one that belonged, could make a place for everyone else that didn’t really belong where they were. A place to laugh and cry, sing and play without being told to shut up.

Maybe he could make it safe enough that Sirius could live there too.

“Wh-what do I need to do?” He stammered out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that for a kick off?
> 
> The greater points of motivations will unravel naturally over time, this chapter was basically dedicated to Harry's desire for something more and different than what he's being lumped with and the surprising realisation that he might actually be able to have it after 13 years of being told 'No' and worse.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the chapter, and any random thoughts or speculations you might have. It's always interesting to hear from the community. If you like what you're reading that'd be nice to hear, if you don't like it, I don't mind hearing that either as long as you're civil and you share your thoughts and reasoning.  
> ~  
> If you want to chat about A Place Apart or with other readers, you may do so via the Discord Channel: Metalduck Garden ( https://discord.gg/krhgMsM ) which was created 1st Sept. 2020.  
> I'll be haunting it near constantly, so if you have more thoughts/questions than you can comfortably put in the comments, you're free to use the Discord as well.


	2. Tastes like Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His initial plotting with Griphook done, Harry sets off into the Alley to take care of his much needed supply run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back lovelies and thank you to everyone that left my a little comment. You assuredly put a smile on my dial.
> 
> It's Monday (for me at least, in my Australia stationed office), which means in accordance with the posting schedule I wanted to try and keep, it's time for a new chapter!
> 
> In this one we'll see Harry mostly trying and somewhat failing to keep his head down and we get a happy reunion with mans best friend. :)
> 
> There's a chunky footnote at the end of the chapter that glances over a little of the thought/research that happened for this chapter, feel free to read it or not at your own discretion.
> 
> Happy reading and on with the show!

#### August 3rd, 1994 - Diagon Alley, London

A half hour later found Harry wandering back out of the lovely cool bank and into the summer heat and with it the hubbub of Britain's number one magical shopping district for witches and wizards, a shopping list in one hand and a charmed and warded coin purse in the other. The shopping list was a quick but thorough write up that Griphook had penned for him, listing all the things he would _need_ to buy and take with him - clothes, books, treats, mementos - for the trip and long stay away, and a list of suggested items that he might want with him but weren’t strictly necessary. The coin purse had been magically linked to his vault and tied into his magic so that no one but he himself would be able to actually use it. It would however allow him to pull money directly from his vault without needing to carry fistfuls of heavy coins with him wherever he went which would help him make some of the purchases he needed to make. 

For the rest though, Griphook had patiently informed him while he had been writing up the list that for purchases of a hundred galleons or more, rather than standing around digging out coin after individual coin, he could simply press his signet into the receipt while channeling a little of his magic to it - both the merchants copy and his own, the goblin had insisted for ease of record keeping - and the store owner or manager could take the receipt to Gringotts and one of the staff would see to the transfer upon presentation of the receipt. 

He thought it was a very efficient system, the closest thing the wizarding world had to credit cards really. Especially when he took into consideration just how much he was going to be spending over the next couple of hours. 

While he shopped, Griphook would apparently be reporting back his Branch Manager, who would in turn call on their clan chieftain. The clan chieftain was then supposed to organise a meeting with the goblin king to go over the particulars and start drawing up the contract for the deal. Apparently it had been a while since the idea had originally been pitched on the goblin side of things so some time for talking and to dig up old paperwork was required. Hence why he was using the time to get his shopping done now. His account manager had been pretty certain that once everyone was on the same page that things would progress very quickly.

Like, leave that week or sooner, quickly.

Shaking of his lingering bemusement, Harry looked again at the list then up at the street around him to get his bearings. 

First stop would be the new trunk. Griphook had listed out a specific kind of trunk, one that based on its enchantments was well and truly on the expensive side of things. He had assured Harry though that barring something truly catastrophic, it would be a long long time before he would even have to think about replacing it. So making a quick turn off to the left he stepped into Stowe & Packer’s Magical Luggage with the odd hope that he’d be able to get in and out without causing a fuss.

The inside of the shop was somewhat dimly lit thanks at least in part to the small mountain of trunks, bags, baggage carts and other such items obviously intended to carry or store a person’s effects. They were stacked so high they blocked out the shop window, leaving only two small lamps hung from the ceiling to illuminate the shop. The air was a touch humid too, despite the cooling charm that must have been cast somewhat recently, bringing the temperature down to a manageable level compared to the stifling heat outside. Aside from that the store seemed relatively dust free and well maintained - which for a magical supply store seemed to be something of a novelty as far as Harry had seen - right down to the neatly and modestly attired clerk waiting patiently behind the counter.

Wandering up to the counter he gave the clerk a little nod in greeting. “Good afternoon, I’m after a specific piece of luggage that a friend recommended to me. I was hoping you have it in stock?”

The store clerk, a medium sized man with a kind face and a noticeably receding hairline gave him a nod and a smile back. “And a good afternoon to you, young sir. We rather pride ourselves on our ability to meet our customers needs, both in keeping up with current trends and making sure we always have stock available. Which piece in particular were you interested in today?”

“The Royale.”

To his credit the man didn’t break down into choked sputters like he had when Griphook had told him how much he should expect to pay for the trunk, instead he blinked and dipped his head slightly to one side. “Your friend certainly has rather exclusive tastes.” He hedged. “I hope you’ll forgive me for asking but…”

Realising quickly what the older man was trying to ask without being rude about it Harry raised his left hand so the man could see his signet ring, just as Griphook suggested he should, in the event that anyone asked if he had the resources to actually pay for his purchases. “Oh believe me, I wouldn’t ask for something I didn’t know I could afford. That would just disappoint the both of us.” He joked wryly.

Scrutinizing the proffered ring for a quick moment, no doubt in an attempt to gauge its authenticity, the clerk finally gave Harry a nod and a little bow. “Right you are, young sir. If you’ll follow me, our display for the Royale is just this way.” He said, moving around the counter to lead the way further into the store, around a mountain of handbags that had been heaped together in what looked like a very precarious and haphazard fashion.

Absently Harry wondered as he walked past, if that wasn’t an intentional choice. Hide the expensive things behind the cheaper bits and bobs then pile them up so anyone trying to pinch something fancy would try to run past it and inevitably unbalance it and be tripped up. Being buried alive by oversized musty handbags seemed to be an uncomfortable way to spend the evening.

Behind the death trap though, was a decently sized trunk sitting on a little bench so it was elevated for easier viewing. It had a black leather exterior with golden metal corners, handles and combination dial on the side. Aside from the inclusion of gold over the standard brass, it seemed outwardly to be a perfectly normal piece of luggage.

“Now. This, young sir, is what we in the luggage industry fondly refer to as the belle of the ball. A pretty piece with many hidden depths and certainly beyond the common wizards means.” The clerk informed him, offering Harry a joking grin as he gestured down to the case. “It is entirely fireproof, waterproof, acid proof and totally scratch proof. It comes standard with seven-hundred and seventy-seven compartments which are all locked under powerful preserving and stasis charms to keep your belongings in tiptop condition and right where you left them. No more rummaging around for this book or that potion bottle after a bumpy transit, everything is guaranteed to remain exactly as you place it. It similarly comes standard with an inbuilt manor for the wizard on the go and includes an expanded tent for the gentleman that prefers to camp in a more rugged fashion. As standard twenty of the storage compartments are also fitted with quality temperature control for the storage of particularly delicate potion ingredients. Similarly ten compartments have pre-configured settings for the storage and preservation of particularly ancient and delicate tomes. Upon special request and for an additional fee Gringotts bank can even enchant one of the compartments and link it to your family vault for the easy retrieval and deposit of artefacts or finances. Ten compartments are standardly set to store clothing and are charmed to ward off pests and keep the items from becoming musty from prolonged storage. And there are several security options built in to ensure no one but you have access to its contents, which range from a mild warning shock to full body binding and stunning hexes for repeat attempts at unauthorised access.”

He paused for a moment to breathe and Harry could almost literally feel his body bracing for more.

“The Royale, as you can see, is modelled in appearances after the more modest and classic trunk designs, and is guaranteed to weigh no more fully loaded than your favourite novel or your money back. It can be affixed with nameplate, family crest or another design of your choosing. Or alternatively a combination of those. A full information booklet is, of course, included which illustrates how the settings and enchantments on the different compartments can be changed as you see fit and can be safely shrunk down wand-free for carrying convenience. Last but not least is the final compartment, a decoy compartment which will look and act exactly as any mundane piece of luggage would in the event that you should find yourself having to travel through muggle territory.” The clerk offered him a small smile at the deer-in-headlights he could feel his face making. “It’s the only piece of luggage on the market with a one hundred year warrantee.”

Harry blinked at that last little tidbit and nodded absently. “Oh, good. That’s good...ah, I’ll take one. Crest and initials please.” He told the clerk, just a little breathless still from the wealth of features. No wonder Griphook had told him it would be one of his biggest but best investments for the expedition. He’d probably be able to fit everything _he'd ever own_ in it with room left over.

 _It’s its own travelling house!_ Harry thought, mind reeling.

The rest of the sale, care instructions and general use instructions blew by without Harry straying too far away from the numb shock he had unceremoniously landed himself in. It wasn’t until it was time to leave, his new trunk burning a hole in his pocket that he snapped out of his haze.

“Magic is **_awesome_**.” He breathed out, grinning up at the very patient store clerk.

The man laughed good naturedly and gave him a nod. “That it is, young sir, that it is. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

With a grin on his face and a bounce in his step Harry bid the man a cheerful good day before stepping back out of the shop and making a beeline across the alley, straight into Madam Malkin's carefully arranged store, door chime ringing merrily. Unlike Stowe & Packer’s, there was no one standing at the counter waiting to greet him, nor milling about in the rest of the shop looking at display outfits as was normal for the time of day. But the open accounts ledger and quill on the counter left him with the thought that maybe he had just missed the last customer.

A familiar voice from the staff only section at the back of the shop drew his attention to the half concealed doorway. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Shrugging his acceptance of the request even if the madam wasn’t able to see it and wandered further in to start looking at the displays. They were all notably geared towards witch and wizard aesthetics, some of them having a very traditional or even dated feel to them, for all that they were obviously newly crafted and assembled together. A couple though did have a more modern cut to them. Suits and dresses - gowns really - that could have easily blended in with an office worker or at one of the society luncheons his aunt gushed about when she was pretending not to be a horrible gossip. Still, he needed new clothes, ones that were actually his and not worn out hand-me-downs or the school clothes he’d left in his old trunk back at Privet Drive. It had been a nice daydream, on and off since his first trip to the alley. Him dressed up just like everyone else, looking like he belonged in a smart suit and robes, waistcoat too for good measure. Blending in just like everyone else because for once he _was_ like everyone else. Just another wizard going about his business and easily accepted sight, strutting down the alley, friendly faces bidding him good morning.

Always before there’d been gentle nudging voices leading him away. Little reminders that even if he didn’t like them the clothes he already had, had a decent amount of wear left in them. And logically, wouldn’t it be a shame to spend all that money getting himself new things when he was growing so much that by the time he was finished with school for the year, he would have outgrown them already. They had been sensible arguments really, so even if he was disappointed Harry had allowed himself to be led away, just like Ron had to be led away from Quality Quidditch Supplies every year. Although, it’s not like Harry could blame him. There was some great stuff for sale in that store.

The telltale swish of fabric from behind him had him turning just in time to see Madam Malkin bustling out of her back room toward him dressed in a simple mauve dress with her silver hair up out of the way in a neat bun, blinking in surprise when she recognised him. “Oh, Mr. Potter, good day. You’re a bit early for school robes aren’t you?” She asked, expression puzzled. “If I recall you were newly fitted just this past year for a new set, undetectable extensions sewn in to make sure you had plenty of growing room.”

Harry gave her a warm smile, a little part of him touched that she had remembered his last visit so well. “Hello, Madam Malkin. My uniform is fine, wonderful thank you. I’m actually not here for school robes at all. I was hoping you could help me put together a proper wardrobe in wizarding fashion.”

There was a long silent pause, which Harry was beginning to wonder would be a running recurrence for the day given how many times it had already happened and he’d only talked to three people really, before Madam Malkin jerked into action. Quickly but gently she nudged him up onto the step she used to take measurements and snapped up her wand, a rapid flow of frantic action as multiple magical measuring tapes flicked into existence and started mapping out his body’s dimensions.

It gave Harry the impression she was rather afraid he’d change his mind at any second. Which, realistically was quite fair since every other time he had had the thought, someone had swooped in and nixed the idea.

“A proper wardrobe. Are you wanting a full wardrobe, summer, winter, sleepwear and the rest or just your typical daywear dear?” She asked briskly while noting down his measurements with a notepad and quill she had pulled from a pocket.

“The lot, please, right down to underwear if you don’t mind.” He informed her then paused, biting his bottom lip a moment. “The problem is that it’s a rush job. I’m afraid I need to ask for it to be put together today since I might not be able to come back for a while and my typical residence won’t accept deliveries.”

Madam Malkin paused again, eyes narrowed a little as she turned that over, looking for a moment like she wanted to make inquiries about his ‘typical residence’ before tutting, obviously deciding against prying which he appreciated. “And how long are you giving me, Mr. Potter, I’m going to need several hours to sew you up an entire wardrobe. It’s not like school robes where the same cut and colour of trousers a few times over will do, you know?” She asked him archly, peering down at the list of numbers she had written down as she turned around to head for the counter.

“I know, I’m sorry for the trouble, truly. I have several other errands to take care of in the alley before I’m done for the day and have to head back. It’s probably going to take me three or four hours, maybe a little more. I don’t mind paying extra for the rush or if you have to call in someone to help. I know it’s a lot to ask…” He trailed off, green eyes turning downward .

“None of that Mr. Potter. You’re not the first person to ask me to put a rush on a big order and you certainly won’t be the last.” She informed him sternly, though not unkindly from where she was rapidly working out the total cost of his purchase. “Luckily four hours should be enough time to get it all done since I’m not backed up with new school orders yet. Did you have any preferences for colours or patterns?”

This bit admittedly had Harry mildly stumped. He’s day dreamed a bit about hypothetical outfits, but most of those imaginings seem to disappear right out of mind the moment he tries to call them up now. “Ah, I’m honestly not sure, except that I like three piece suits and those double breasted jackets...the ones with the buttons down both sides?” He said with a moderate dose of uncertainty, moving to stand on the opposite side of the counter, though he was looking back at the various displays up in the store. “I’ve never really had much choice in my clothes to be honest, I’m not sure where to start.”

There was a shuffle behind him followed by a heavy thunk that had him turning back to see a large and very thick book that looked more like a grimoire than the fashion portfolio it seemed to be based on the illustration on the cover. The book was nearly as thick as his forearm was long and twice as tall and wide.

“Not to worry dear, this beauty is full of different designs, muggle and magical ranging from the nineteenth century to modern designs you might spot walking about the streets today. It’s self updating with all the latest fashion trends so I have no doubt you’ll be able to find a few things that tickle your fancy.” She assured him, giving it a happy pat before reaching under the counter and setting a roll of parchment on top. “We can go through it together and I’ll make a note of the ones you like that will work for you along with some suggestions on colours. How does that sound?”

In all it only took a half hour to flip through the book, though he did surprise himself in not picking much that was overly modern or casual, though he did pick a few. In the end there were a lot of formal looking sets, trousers, waistcoats and neat shirts that could be worn with a coat or more casually with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Colours that ranged from green and peacock blue to cream and pale grey were quickly suggested with liberal splashes of white that would, according to the more knowledgeable Madam. She had included some leather and dragonhide pieces after he had mentioned he thought he liked the weight and feel of them after she’d got him to try on a couple of ready made ones she had in stock. Black, dark navy and a couple creamy brown ones of varying lengths, some jackets whose hems sat at his hips and some that sat mid thigh or at knee. One of them, a thick buttery cream dragonhide covering him all the way down to his ankles, which she told him would suit him well in particularly cold winters. Something he readily agreed with since he wasn’t sure what to expect of the weather where he was going to spend the next few years. Griphook had just described it as ‘mostly temperate but with a tendency for storms and cold winter nights’, and Harry isn’t entirely sure yet just what a goblin considers ‘temperate’ or ‘cold’. He knew they had thicker skin than humans, but apart from that he just wasn’t sure.

A couple pairs of leather and dragonhide pants had similarly been included with an arch look from the older woman who went on to tell him in an not quite off-handed way that she had a niece whose son and daughter were currently attending Hogwarts too. Which really shouldn’t surprise him if he thought about it, that other students had borne tales of the school year back to their families. Tales that included the hijinks he seemed to regularly find himself in.

_It is a secret, so of course everyone already knows._

Given the way she went on to explain how durable dragonhide and even regular leather were, he had accepted it with what he thought was good grace, deciding it was her way of saying she wanted him to stay safe. A sentiment he still wasn’t used to. One that left him warm and content in a way only his friends did.

A couple scarves, mittens and t-shirts of various colours and patterns. Several pairs of pyjamas, some with tops, though to Harry’s secret relief there were no actual old fashioned nightshirts included. He wasn’t sure how he’d do trying to fall asleep in a nightie. The boxers and boxer briefs were selected without fanfare, for which he was immensely thankful since the mere mention was enough to turn his cheeks hot with embarrassment. To her credit the woman hadn’t even cracked a smile, just getting on with it then moving past it was all the no nonsense attitude of a mother of three, grandmother of seven and a professional who’d been in business for nearly sixty years if Harry recalled past conversations correctly.

All in all it was rung up in short order after the final tally of items had been worked out leaving Harry to only just stop himself from visibly blanching at the end total, though he knew exactly why it was so large. He had after all insisted that his new wardrobe match the splendor of his cousin Dudleys own, which was full to bursting with all sorts of clothes much to Madam Malkin's surprise, though quite professionally she simply accepted and moved on. Everything from sweater vests to basketball shirts, as if Dudley could run back and forth a big court over and over again like happens in a game of basketball. Still, Harry, with his very few baggy cast-offs had seen the chance to have more than Dudley's four old shirts, Dudley's three old pairs of pants and the belt he'd had to punch holes in with a knife so he could actually use it. He'd wanted choices, both to make them and to be able to see and experience the benefit of making them later. And the drawback of them, as it were.

“That will be 1770 galleons, 1 sickle and 3 knuts, dear. A bit much all at once but it’s a full wardrobe that’ll see you through the next few years with the expanding and durability charms I’ll be working into them.” She explained, apparently having noticed the wince he tried to swallow. “Now that this is done you’ll only need to replace a piece here and there as they get worn out or damaged, and with a bit of sewing know-how you can patch them yourself to make them last that bit longer as well, if you’re of a mind.”

Letting out a gusty sigh, Harry raised his hand to press his signet and his magic into the receipts she provided. “I know, it's everything I wanted and I’m grateful, truly. I’ve just never spent a lot of money before, really.”

“Never hurts to be a touch frugal in your spending!” She readily agreed with a smile, giving his hand a pat as she picked up the receipts, checked them over then held his copy out to him and set her own copy aside in the draw of her clunky metal till. “Now, if you make your way back here in about four hours I should have it ready and waiting.”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket for his list and mentally checking off his clothes off his to-do list and peering at the rest while mentally adding the recommended inclusion of a stop to Lambertons Leather Goods for shoes, belts and gloves. And a stop to Abberdien & Featherworths Jewelers for some cufflinks and timepieces. “Thank you for your help, Madam Malkin, and sorry again about the rush.” He told her as she escorted him to the door.

“Never you mind that, dear. You just have yourself a nice trip around the alley and I’ll see you again later.” She waved him off with a kind smile.

Giving her a final wave through the shop window he decided on the stop of least effort and did an abrupt turn to Quality Quidditch Supplies since it was right next door. QQS as it turned out was much busier than either of his last two stops, although that didn’t really surprise him too much seeing as it was one of - if not _the_ \- most popular stores in the shopping district, along with Florean Fortescue’s Ice-cream parlor and Flourish & Blotts bookshop. If you didn’t count the pubs and cafes that everyone flooded into for their meals, at least. Navigating the store had been a simple matter of keeping his head down, having a quick look at the brooms on offer, paying quickly and quietly with his signet and making his way back out the door with his three new shrunken brooms in a small paper bag. Three because he remembered the frustration of his broken Nimbus 2000 and opted for a couple of backup brooms. Though really, pride of place in his heart was definitely the new Firebolt which had been out for a few months now. He had been reliably told by the shopkeeper that it was _the_ fastest broom on the market, built for both speed and maneuverability. Idea for Seekers the world over.

A few quick stops for his leather goods, inclusive of a supple brown leather messenger bag that came with expansion charms built in and cost nearly as much as his new trunk. Jewelry pieces - which totally felt weird since he was used to jewelry being something only girls wore, according to Vernon - and some writing supplies that should keep him going on stationary goods for a good long while if the expression on the shop clerks face as he rang it all up was anything to gauge it on. With that done and taking a moment to duck out of the way and store his purchases away in his new trunk, Harry shrunk it back down into its convenient pocket size, squared his shoulders and stepped into Knockturn Alley. It felt a bit strange, considering any and everyone who’d ever even mentioned Knockturn Alley while talking about the Diagon Alley shopping district had done so while simultaneously telling him to stay away from it. But Griphook had recommended a second hand wand store that was apparently tucked away in Knockturn whose staff wouldn’t ask questions and would allow him to buy himself a couple extra wands - if he could find any that fit - that would come in handy if his first wand should happen to meet with an accident. Given how long he would be away from any form of viable shopping districts, a few hand-me-down backups seemed like a solid plan.

Harry found the store exactly where Griphook had told him it would be, nestled between two other shops, all of which looked like they were in desperate need for a good clean and a new paint job. His first thought on stepping inside was that it was dusty as hell, so much so that it was a chore not to immediately start sneezing. The second was that the figure he could see further in the store, currently talking quietly with someone that was maybe the shop clerk, looked awfully familiar which shouldn't be what he was feeling since the person that immediate came to mind should have been in hiding. 

Blinking, Harry drew a bit closer, scrutinizing the tall figure with long dark curling hair that was just the right length and colour to tug at his sense of recognition. Biting his lip, he made the choice to go out on a limb and said quietly, “I solemnly swear that I’m…”

The figure's head jumped up and they spun around to reveal Sirius, neatly trimmed beard and all, expression warring between surprise and bemusement. “...up to no good!” He finished before ignoring the person he’d been talking to just a second before and lurched forward, pulling Harry into a fierce bear-hug. “Pup, it’s good to see you. Wait, what are you doing in Knockturn?”

“Probably the same thing as you, I wager. I needed to pick up a couple of spares.” Harry informed him quietly as he was held back out at arms length and given a quick up and down. Either to check him for injuries or to see how much he had grown since he had last seen him. Given the fact that Harry is pretty sure he’d barely grown an inch since the end of his third year, he was pretty sure it was the first one. He dropped his voice down to a whisper as he watched the rather raggity dressed man who was apparently the shop clerk move away to stand behind the counter. "I thought you were supposed to be hiding?"

“A couple of spares, you up to mischief pup?” Sirius asked with a grin but lowered his own voice to answer Harry's question. "I am, mostly, but the Ministry of Corrupt Idiots snapped my wand when they threw me away. I can't keep using borrowed wands, luckily Knockturn is a cesspool of scum and villainy where no one will talk, least of all to the authorities. A few rumours might pop up here and there but I'm safe enough if I keep it to a quick trip. Besides, a bit of gold shuts a lot of mouths and opens a lot of doors. So, now we know why _I'm_ here, what's a good lad like you doing in this pit?"

“Always.” Harry responded with an answering grin before looking around at the stacks of disorganised wands, some in boxes and some sticking out of wicker baskets and what looked like repurposed vases. “It’s a bit of a story.”

Sirius bopped his head, accepting that without a fuss and turned, keeping an still worryingly skinny arm wrapped securely around Harry’s shoulders. “We’ll head to the pub after we’re done here and you can catch me up.” He said softly, assuring his godson that he wouldn’t be up and disappearing when he wasn’t looking.

“How do you even go about buying a secondhand wand anyway?”

From his spot behind the cluttered counter the shopkeep snorted indelicately. “Just the same as you’d buy first hand, lad. Except we’re assuming you already have a wand type that works for you, we use that as a basis to narrow the selection down.”

Harry nodded, glancing around at the clutter. “Makes sense, I guess. So if I told you my original was made of Holly and Phoenix feather, you’d be able to pick out something comparable that would suit?”

A soft whistle greeted the question, turning his attention back to the clerk and his shaggy black eyebrows that seemed to be trying to disappear into the mess of equally dark hair atop his head. “That’s an interesting blend right there, I’ll tell you what. Won’t be very many that can match up to it, but we’ve got a few that might fit, lemme rummage a mo.” He said before taking off to do just that.

“Safe bet is that he’ll be back with a stack of apple, aspen, blackthorn and mahogany wands. Probably some sycamore for good measure.” Sirius muttered quietly to Harry as he watched the clerk take off. Catching sight of Harry’s look out of the corner of his eye, the animagus offered him a ready smile. “I took an interest in wandlore when I was in school myself. Was interested in seeing where my ebony and dragon heartstring wand stood opposed to the wands my family had.”

Harry nodded. “Hermione did some research in our first year. She said Holly was a questing wood, usually matched to someone that struggles with their temper or rashness, which...fair. She said that a phoenix feather core is usually associated with great power, healing or with a great destiny. She didn’t like that one much, she’s not really keen on destiny or fate, whatever you want to call it.”

A bark of laughter met that statement. “She’s not wrong. Holly is also less commonly thought of as a ‘young’ wood, since most people end up growing out of it as they mature and grow older. Though not everyone does. Used to know a couple of aurors that had wands made of holly. Granted they used to get a lot of mostly good natured ribbing for it.”

The teen was saved from replying by the quick reappearance of the shopkeep whose face had gone ruddy from running about the shop. “Right, I grabbed a few that might fit and a couple I honestly wasn’t sure about. Powerful wands in the right hands to be sure, but they tend to be pickier than most.” He explained as he set one bunch of wands on the counter in front of Harry, then set another bunch in front of Sirius. “I plucked out a few based on what you told me too, give ‘em a try and see if any of them work for you.”

Sirius and Harry exchanged a glance and a shrug before turning their attention to their respective piles. The mix of wood colours and lengths was a bit of a surprise to Harry before turning the thought aside on the assumption that some of them had had coloured varnishes or stains applied by a previous owner. A couple of them had designs that looked pretty fancy Harry thought. Cautiously Harry started picking through the bunch, separating the bunch into smaller groups as he went. Any wand he picked up that felt like not much of anything and the one that gave him a horribly static shock was set in a pile closest to the clerk to be reshelved. On his left went the wands that responded pleasantly but didn’t really evoke any strong feelings, those he’d go back to later if he had to. And on his right went the few that made his skin tingle and his heartbeat stutter and pound.

Licking his lips as he regarded the small pile, Harry cast green eyes back up at the clerk, finding both he and Sirius watching him curiously. Offering them a slightly wobbly smile, Harry quickly pointed out the different piles. “That lot is right out, either a bad reaction or none at all. This pile are the ones that are kind of alright, nothing fantastic but nothing bad either.” He explained then let his hand rest next to the small selection on his right. “These are...they’re the best I think, they tingle and feel...they’re strong.”

He drew quiet, not quite sure to explain the feelings they had given him.

Sirius gave the shoulder closest to him a reassuring squeeze. “You’re alright pup. Wand fittings are always a bit of a rush.” He told him calmly, voice warm and quiet.

“Hmm, gimme a mo, I think I’ve got a couple more you can try in back.” The clerk told him before taking off again, taking their discarded wands with him.

“You’re looking better.” Harry said quietly, gazing up at Sirius while they waited on the clerks' return.

The older male gave a huff. “It would be difficult for me to look worse. But I managed to get myself to somewhere safe...mostly safe...maybe safe…” He trailed off, looking chagrined at whatever place he was thinking of. “Got some proper food into me and a few potions, that helped. It’s a process, but I’m getting there.” He added, giving Harry a smile that was obviously meant to reassure him.

“Bit by bit.”

They gave each other a smile and a nod before turning in almost unison to watch the shopkeeper hurry back, holding out two wands out in front of him.

“Not the walnut!” Sirius cut in before the man had even had a chance to speak. Seeing Harry’s puzzled expression he made a face and explained. “The most famous - or infamous - weilder of a walnut wand is Bellatrix Lestrange, who’s currently rightfully locked up in Azkaban for torture and murder. Walnut makes for powerful wands, well paired for people that gravitate to combat, duellers, aurors and the like. They’re also used by witches and wizards that are particularly inventive when it comes to their spellwork. But they’re difficult to control and have to be subjugated before they’re any real use and it’s a constant struggle to maintain dominance over a walnut wand. You’re brilliant with your combative spells, but you’re much more easy going. You prefer teamwork to outright taking charge and getting your way.”

Harry and the clerk both nodded along, considering the information. Harry raised an eyebrow as the man set the walnut wand aside and held out the other. “This one is red oak. The saying is that it's a sure sign of a hot temper, hence the colouration, but red oak is best suited for a person that’s quick witted, adaptable and has even faster reaction times. Red oak tends to do well in the duelling circuit, on account of how fast active combat can be.” He explained, giving it a nudge to the teen. “This one in particular’s got a thunderbird talon core, a rare find outside of America. Even in America realistically. They tend to use either heartstring or tailfeathers if they’re making up a thunderbird core wand.”

Reaching out for the attractive slightly jagged shaped wand Harry wrapped his hand around it and almost immediately gasped. A strong scent of ozone rose to lie thick on his tongue, he could feel the hair on his neck and arms rising to stand on end and could actually see little sparks of lightning spark along his arm.

“Harry?”

Tearing his attention away from the wand in his hand and to Sirius he took in the older man's worried mien and gave him a smile that felt a little shaky, even to him. “Sorry, yeah, it’s a rush. It tastes like storms.” He explained breathlessly.

Nodding slowly as if that made sense Sirius made a vague gesture with one hand. “Give it a whirl, nothing explosive.”

Considering that, and the fact that Griphook had said the usual magical trace meant to watch over Harry for uses of accidental or illegal underage magic use had been magically burned away when he had put on his signet ring and stepped up to being the head of his House, since a person couldn't be both a child and head of a House. Harry spent a long moment running through his spell repertoire, Harry quickly settled on his most obvious but non-destructive spells. A new one he’d learned just the past year but had already gotten a lot of practice with last year and now knew by heart. Summoning up the memory of his parents' love, he snapped the wand out to the side. “Expecto Patronum!”

In a blinding flash, light and emotion coalesced into the familiar form of a large stag which bounded soundlessly about the store, searching it for danger before returning to stand quietly by Harry’s side.

There was a choked sound from the direction of the clerk.

“Pup, I think we need to have a talk about subtlety.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took a little more research than the first. In the last chapter I found myself needed to double check a few things in terms of when specific events actually happened (like double checking when his first broom got whomped & when the Firebolt was gifted to him [i ended up doing something different for the Christmas gift than the canon Firebolt for those of you that are wondering, but that will come up in future chapters] when he learns to pick locks and a few other titbits). In this chapter the research was geared towards: wands (woods & cores specifically) and currency.
> 
> I ended up jumping on the House of Fraser online store (a site that caters to designer brands like Hugo, Lacoste, Calvin Klein, CKNY, etc) & using the prices there to draft up an approximate list by using some of the cheaper & mid price options (which still ranged from £5 to £80+ depending on the item (basically the £5 example was for a pair of socks, lol). This gave me a rough estimate of prices a person could realistically be expected to pay for a wardrobe specifically tailored to their exact body measurements (see also: bespoke suits {thank you Kingsman for these ridiculously high suit standards I now have) in fully custom cut/colour etc. The tally for the lot (12xsleepwear, 8x trousers, 12x Shirts, 12x t-shirts, 12x socks, 12x underwear, 4x scarves, 4x hip length jacket, 4x knee length jacket, 2x Ankle length jacket, 6x sweaters/jumpers, 7x waistcoats, 4x hats, 2x denim jackets, 6x ties/bowties) came to a total of 5,334 pounds (funny since i decided arbitrarily that the Royale trunk would have a 5k galleon price tag making it £15,067.24), which seriously hurts my soul since the closest I've spent to that was on a holiday that included airfare, car high & a weeks accommodation in an apartment...so ouch.
> 
> Anyway, I took that number over to https://www.beyondhogwarts.com & plugged it into their muggle to wizard currency converter to get the 1,770 galleons, 1 sickle & 3 knuts end tally that Madam Malkin gave our poor gobsmacked Harry. His shoes, belts, gloves etc only set him back 195g 13s; 12k in comparison.
> 
> But realistically J.K.R did say that the yearly Hogwarts cost of tuition was $43,301 USD per year (said in 2015), that converts to a little over 9k galleons, which the Ministry pays thankfully. Every. Single. Year. Which would be devastating otherwise since as most of you would be aware, school tuition does not (in most cases) include school books/uniforms/stationary/misc equipment. If you think about that and then just how much a full time government employee probably makes in a full working year while working overtime as much as possible and taking off as few days as possible...well there would be a reason the Weasley's are portrayed as poor (financially, we all know they're rich in spirit) as they are, realistically speaking since in Harry's first year the Weasleys have Percy, Fred, George and Ron all attending (4x the yearly tuition adds up to just over 36k galleons, not including books, uniforms or anything else. And that's after having already put Bill and Charlie through their Hogwarts education, and with the knowledge that Ginny starts school the next year who has to wear a different uniform where the boys could be stuffed into hand-me downs to save on costs, so that includes her tuition fees and new uniform costs and any new books that they don't already have (since defence changes every year and some ponce just showed up and demanded every student buy seven copies of his books). There's also the side note that (to my knowledge) there's no confirmation about Hogwarts having any kind of scholarships to assist low-means households put their kids through school. So every year if you take away the base tuition which the Ministry must pay (uneducated magic kids are a risk to the Statute, so that makes sense), you're still left with thousands of dollars/pounds spent on the actual books they use, uniforms which may or may not be in a good enough condition to be handed down from older sibling to younger (and having multiple children attending all at once does mean they'd have to buy more), whatever potion ingredients weren't covered in class, basically everything else. It's a lot.
> 
> I'm going to stop ranting about real/wizarding financials now with the takeaway:
> 
> Sometimes it really **really** pays to come from old money.
> 
> Ps. Sorry for the chunky end note, please let me know your thoughts, whether they're about the chapter itself, or the soul crushing reality of finances in the magical world.  
> If you want to chat about A Place Apart or with other readers, you may do so via the Discord Channel: Metalduck Garden ( https://discord.gg/krhgMsM ) which was created 1st Sept. 2020.  
> I'll be haunting it near constantly, so if you have more thoughts/questions than you can comfortably put in the comments, you're free to use the Discord as well.


	3. Full Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sirius get a moment to bond over their shared pain and Sirius sees a chance to step up. Harry gets a couple of forced lessons in the art of plant care before being Blinded by the Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies, welcome back. I’d like to give you a warning here that in this chapter we have Harry and Sirius catching up, and by catching up I mean attempts to actually catch up get derailed by Harry’s unhappy life with the Dursleys and his project with the goblins. As such there will be an discussion of sorts regarding child abuse and neglect and I know that some people are more sensitive to such topics than others. So, please proceed with this knowledge in mind, though there are no descriptive explanations of violence or anything like that. We also see a bit of a shopping montage and then a trip to the House-Elf placement agency.
> 
> PS: I wrote the first chunk in the pub to Get Home by Bastille on repeat, so if you like to listen while you read, I'd recommend that. :)

#### August 3rd 1994 - The White Wyvern Pub, Diagon Alley, London

The White Wyvern was surprisingly large, for all that it was tucked away as inconspicuous as possible off a side alley that ran off Knockturn. There was no signage out the front, just a wooden door that had seen better days which happened to have a much faded picture of what probably used to be identifiable as a wyvern.

That was it. No signs, no windows, no doorman - not that Harry expected one - to let you know the door led to a pub and no someones flat or a florist for that matter.

Still, Harry had followed Sirius who had moved toward it then into it with confidence, holding the door open for his godson before preceding him to lead the way through the long hall and into the pub proper.

The inside was also a lot cleaner than he had been expecting, though he’s not entirely sure why he thought it would be particularly dirty since people had to eat and drink in there, preferably without getting sick. The lighting was dim, enchanted lights dotting the walls to make up for the lack of natural light - though they didn’t quite manage - and the floor, walls chairs and tables were all made of hardwood. There was also what appeared to be a stuffed beast mounted on a taxidermy stand above the bar which he was going to assume was a chimera on account of it having body parts from three identifiably different creatures. Lion, reptile and what he thought was a goat. Why they didn’t get a wyvern head so it fit the name, he just didn’t know.

Sirius had led him to a table tucked into a back corner and had left him momentarily to buy them some food and drink, while Harry’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. By the time they did the older man was back thunking a bowl of what appeared to be a thick stew on the table in front of him, a tall glass of water touching down gently beside it. “Eat up. It’s not as good as the Hogwarts house-elves serve, but it’ll fill you up well enough.”

Harry bobbed his head in thanks and pulled it towards him while Sirius sat down with his own bowl and a pint of something dark and frothy. “Thanks.”

“You’re a growing young man, the least I can do is feed you.” Sirius told him with a smile then nodded to Harry’s left hand where it sat stabilising the bowl. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that little addition. I know you didn’t have it when I last saw you, when did you take it up?”

“Today, I found out that I automatically became Lord Potter because the rest of the line…”

“Yeah.” The older man murmured, expression turning sad as his thoughts no doubt turned to Harry’s parents. With effort, apparently determined not to sink into unhappy memories, he shook off the thoughts. “I didn’t expect to run into you today, that’s for sure. I got the impression from Moony that you’re being kept well hidden during the summers.”

Pushing a large hunk of carrot around with the tip of his spoon, Harry flicked his eyes between it and Sirius, not quite sure how he’d take his answer. “I decided to run away.” He admitted quietly.

Laden spoon halfway to his mouth, Sirius blinked in surprise. “You did?” He asked. “Do you have somewhere to stay? I assume you have access to your vaults if you’re wearing your title of Lord now, there are a few places with rooms to let around the alley if you’re still trying to find a place of your own. The offer still stands for you to come live with me, though...I’m going to have to do some serious cleaning and de-cursing of the place, but you’re more than welcome.”

Harry blinked and sat up a little straighter, taking in the honesty concern and acceptance. “You don’t want to try and talk me out of it?”

“Pup, I’m really the last person for that sort of nonsense. I ran away from my own family when I was a little older than you are now. In my case I didn’t have a stitch beside the clothes on my back and the little I had managed to save away. My harpy of a mother cut me off completely...if it wasn’t for your dad and his parents I would have been out on the street.” Sirius explained patiently, grimacing a little at the memory. “Running away is a desperate attempt we make to protect ourselves, I’d never try to talk you out of doing everything you absolutely could to protect yourself.”

Feeling flushed and like his throat was suddenly too tight, Harry stared instead down at his stew, hoping the older man wouldn’t notice if his eyes were suddenly a little too bright. “Thanks, Padfoot.” He whispered, voice a little hoarse.

“Always, pup.” Came the equally soft reply and under the table Harry felt the others long leg bump and rest against his own in a quiet show of comfort.

They ate in silence for a bit, and Sirius had been right, the stew was nowhere near as good as the stuff the house-elves made, or Mrs. Weasleys either for that matter, but it was decent and it was hot and filling. It also reminded Harry that he hadn’t actually been allowed to eat breakfast that morning. He considered that, the regular occurrence of it that wouldn’t happen anymore now that he had power over his own care. “Did you know my Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs?” He asked suddenly, surprising himself with the blurted words.

Sirius blinked at him in surprise, spoon sticking out of his mouth. He shook his head just slightly left and right in answer.

“It’s where I lived from when the Dursleys took me in, up until my Hogwarts letter came. They’d lock me up in there, sometimes for weeks if they saw me doing accidental magic. Just me and the spiders in this tiny one meter by two meter space that was cluttered with old boots and odd and ends that didn’t belong anywhere else.” Harry told him softly, green eyes locked onto his mostly finished bowl. “After the letter came my aunt talked my uncle into putting me in my cousins second bedroom, the one he used for his broken toys. She was afraid they were being spied on and that people knew how they treated me. She was afraid that people would _talk_.”

The older man remained silent, setting his spoon down in order to give his godson his full attention while he talked his pains out. Ideally it would have happened somewhere better, but the back corner of a quiet pub where everyone knew and agreed to mind their own business would do well enough. Especially when it sounded like his godson was sick of choking on his misery and just needed to get it out. 

He was familiar with the feeling.

“They put bars on the window, on the outside. They’d been telling the neighbours and anyone that was curious that I was an incurable delinquent, a liar and a thief. All sorts of things, so when they put the bars up, the few times someone asked they’d just tell them that I had gotten worse, that I was dangerous.” Harry said quietly. “Uncle Vernon put eight locks on the bedroom door, on the outside so I couldn't get out unless they let me, and a cat flap on it for good measure. They’d shove food through it if they thought I’d been well behaved enough to deserve it, a can of soup, tin of tuna, a piece of fruit...sometimes half eaten stuff. Sometimes nothing for days. I know how to sew, cook and clean, how to maintain a garden and make handyman repairs around a house because I’ve been forced to do it since I was five. They called them my chores, things I did to show how thankful I was for them taking me in. No one else did chores at the Dursleys...no one else got beaten for not doing them, or accidentally burning the edges of the bacon, or for being a freak.”

He broke off, reaching for his water and taking several long swallows to give himself a moment to calm down, to distance himself from the thoughts, the memories the words evoked.

“I tried to run away when I was six, but I didn’t get very far before the police found me and took me back. After the police left I was beaten and locked in my cupboard under the stairs for three weeks. It was the longest they’d ever locked me away for. I think...I think towards the end I almost didn’t wake up. I remember it getting harder and harder to wake up. I think aunt Petunia got scared of what would happen if the police or someone came looking to check up on me. I remember waking up to her smacking on the wall. She told me off for being lazy and threw an old banana at me before walking off without locking the door again.” He murmured, posture drawing in on itself just a bit as if to protect himself from the memories.

“I begged Professor Dumbledore to let me live at Hogwarts instead at the end of my first year, but he said it would be safer for me at the Dursleys, that when my mum died to protect me it created a special magic that was tied in to our blood, so I had to stay with blood for it to work and keep me protected, keep me hidden. And-and I couldn’t tell him, I wanted too but the words wouldn’t come out. So I kept going back year after year. But I decided, today, this afternoon that I’d rather be on the run for the rest of my life than be there anymore. So I packed up some things after I finished weeding the garden and called the Knight Bus to catch a lift to the Alley, to Gringotts to see if they’d let me take money out even though the professor has my key since he’s - or was - my guardian for the magic stuff. Griphook got me to put on the ring and told me that since it didn’t kill me then I was really who I said I was.”

Sirius sat back in his chair when it was clear that Harry was done for the moment and reached up to rub at his face then shifted to reach for his pint, taking a few deep mouthfuls before huffing an aggravated sigh at the situation the young wizard had had to rescue himself from. “Well, first things first then, anyone that tries to put you back in that hellhole will do it over my dead mangy carcass. Second, I’m sorry you’ve been forced to endure that shit, it’s fucked up and no kid deserves it.” He stated, voice unyielding and eyes hardened steel. “What do you need going forward, you didn’t answer me earlier when I asked if you had somewhere to stay?”

“I do, I mean I will. My account manager, that’s who Griphook is by the way, once he told me I was legally an adult and could do whatever I wanted, I told him I had no idea what to do anymore, that I’d been midway through running away. He told me I could still do it and told me about a proposal for a business venture the goblins have apparently wanted to go in on, except no one who has the money has wanted to take the risk.” He explained, pulling his bowl back to him for a moment before making a face at it and pushing it back away, in no mood to eat after spilling his private hell to someone else.

“Okay, so what’s the proposal, something big I assume?”

Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair and absently noting that he should probably get it cut while he was in the alley anyway. “They annexed - that’s what it’s called right, when one group conquers another's land - a lot of territory during the wars. Most of it’s got resources they want, but some of it's just land. They’ve apparently made a lot of money from having Gringotts branches spread out in the different magical communities, so they want to start a fresh one. Apparently the weathers pretty good in the place Griphook suggested for the deal and they were thinking it could be turned into a place where magical people could live and go on holiday, so there’s money to be made from day to day life and tourism but if it was owned and run by goblins, most people wouldn’t live there since most people believe the stereotype that they’re all evil and greedy and violent.”

“So they want a partnership with a wizard in good standing with deep pockets?”

“Yeah, except most people apparently either don’t have the money, which is fair since it’s a lot apparently, or they just don’t want to take the chance in case it doesn’t pan out. Or you know, they don’t like hard work, because it’s going to have to be built from scratch, there’s nothing but bare land. Some forests, some smallish mountains and ocean is all that’s there...aside from whatever creatures natively live there. Griphook said that there wasn’t anything sapient, but that still leaves a lot of room when we’re talking about magical creatures.”

Sirius hummed quietly, expression thoughtful. “So what does your investment actually get you, they’re not going to make you a puppet spokesman and dump you with the bill and sit back and reap the rewards, right?”

“No, Griphook said the goblin nation and Gringotts will foot half the cost and send along some resources and warriors for protection, and some people to set up a market and a home for the goblins to live. I’ll own the land and all its rights...be King Harry, which is mental. But I’ll have to handle all the politics and laws, I’ll get final say in who can live there, how criminals are punished...everything basically. I get to build it from the ground up, make it safe for people like me, us.” Harry explained earnestly.

“Huh, King Harry does have a nice ring to it.” He admitted with a playful grin. “So how big is it, are we talking Bristol or London?”

Harry frowned at that. “I’m not really sure actually. Griphook said that it was about the size of the Australian region of Tasmania, but I don’t know how big that is, I remember from Geography lessons that Australia itself is pretty big, even if it’s the smallest continent it’s still a continent. But I don’t really remember much else besides koalas, kangaroos, kookaburras and killer snakes and spiders everywhere.”

The older man laughed a bit at that before abruptly sobering, eyes a little wide. “Waitwaitwait! The size of Tasmania?!”

Harry raised a dark eyebrow at the sudden change. “Yes?” He answered with noticeable uncertainty.

“Harry...Harry, Australia is just shy of two billion acres of land. Most of it is an inhospitable hellscape, true, but it’s still...Tasmania itself, completely on its own is just shy of the size of half the size of the whole of England. It’s bigger than bloody Wales, Harry!” He whisper-shouted across the table.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“Holy shit.”

“That too. Harry, your little kingdom in the making is bigger than Taiwan, Bosnia, Denmark and the Bahamas and a whole lot more, but those are just the ones that popped into my head.”

If he didn’t feel like his heart was going to give up and throw itself up right into his bowl of half eaten stew at any moment, Harry might have been tempted to kick Sirius under the table because it was starting to sound an awful lot like his godfather had gotten over his shock and was an inch from rolling on the floor and laughing at him. When he had talked to Griphook, the goblin had made it sound like a little spot, a nice little island. The kind of place where the population barely hit four digits, where everyone knew everyone else and would randomly stop driving in the middle of the road to chat with their mate who happened to be going the other way. It didn’t, he hadn’t made it sound like much of anything. A big responsibility for someone that was still basically a kid for all that he was a legal adult as far as wizarding world law was concerned, but nothing like what Sirius was saying. This was big.

This was capital H, **Huge**.

“Sirius…”

“Harry?”

“Sirius, what do I do?” He asked, just a little desperately.

Sirius gave him a smile and reached for his pint. “What do you want to do?”

Harry stared down at his hands, opening and closing them in time with his heartbeat which hadn’t stopped, despite how sure he had been that it would. “I-I wanted to explore, build something new. To make a home for the people that don’t quite fit in, someplace warm and safe where no one is ever hungry or homeless. Somewhere that people can’t get sacked just because they’re different.”

“I think Moony would be very touched to hear you say that.” The older man said softly, lips upturned and grey eyes warm.

Feeling his face warm at the softly spoken words, Harry shrugged haphazardly and reached for his water, sipping from the glass in a bid to cover up his embarrassment only to cough and choke when Sirius spoke next.

“So when do we leave and what do we need to pack?”

Coughing and clearing his throat Harry quickly put his glass down on the table. “ _We?_ ”

The animagus grinned at his godson, obviously attempting to smother laughter at the teens expense given the very slight hitch in his breath every now and then while he took in Harry’s gobsmacked and confused expression and the way he squawked when he spoke. Maybe a little unfair, but certainly all in good fun. “Of course ‘We’. I’m not going to let you run off and have epic adventures without me, I’m a Gryffindor too, you’ll recall. We’re born for daring-do’s and epic quests. Besides…” He trailed off a little, expression turning more serious and just a little sad. “I spent years dreaming about spending time with you, teaching you all the things I know, getting up to mischief together. I’d like a chance to do that now that neither of us are locked up in a life ruining, soul sucking hellscape. Besides, I’m something of an expert in running away, I’ll teach you the ropes.”

“Sirius…” Harry cut off at a loss, for a moment overwhelmed by what the older man was offering. Though he could pick out the edge of determination under the words, so maybe it was less of an offer and a gently worded statement of how things would be. Sirius was going to stick by Harry. The end. No discussion, they would be in this together, good or ill. Harry had never had someone literally drop their life like a hot potato to run off and have adventures with him...outside of Ron and Hermione at least, but this was different. This was Sirius’ entire life, leaving behind everything he had and had known to go to places unknown, face dangers unknown, sleep in the dirt under the stars and sing into the chaos of fresh starts.

Thinking of it like that, maybe it wasn’t so surprising or strange that Sirius would be ready and willing to leave behind the shattered remains of his life in wizarding Great Britain behind to start a new one with someone he apparently cared about and in a place that wouldn’t judge him if he had come out of his old life a little bit strange. Maybe Sirius needed to make a new home too. Somewhere he felt safe himself.

Decided and feeling a determination of his own, Harry reached into his pocket and drew out his list. “Here, this is the list Griphook wrote up for me. Most of it common sense I think, but there are a few things that I probably wouldn’t have thought of on my own. I’ve already picked up a few things and put in my order for a new wardrobe…”

“Hmm, I wonder if we have time for me to do the same. Most of what I have at my place here in London is either dated, moth-eaten or both. I was able to give Moony a bit of money to pick up a few staples, but mostly it’s a mess.” Sirius murmured thoughtfully, reaching up to comb over his moustache absently.

Considering that for a moment Harry made a rapid decision and jumped to his feet, grabbing the list off the table and crammed it back into his pocket. His hand snapped out to grab hold of the older man's wrist and gave it a tug, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, if we get in quick enough maybe we can put the order through in time.”

Sirius gave a huffed laugh, pulling against Harry’s hold just long enough to drain the remains of his pint then allowed himself to be dragged bodily away from their table and out of the pub. Grinning a little lopsidedly at the show of enthusiasm. “Alright, alright! You best ease up that grip Pup, or my arms going to pop right off, then where will you be?”

“With an impressive Beater’s bat?” Harry tossed back over his shoulder with a grin, the expression broadening with glee when the older man barked a laugh in response.

“Cheeky, definitely cheeky.” Sirius laughed but allowed himself to be tugged out of Knockturn and around the bend into Madam Malkins for the second time that day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sorting Sirius’ new clothes turned out to be a lot easier than it had been for Harry to work out his own. Sirius at least had some idea for what styles he had liked. The hardest part had been the little bit of conversation with the matronly woman since she had apparently known Sirius reasonably well before Harry’s parents had died. They had considered that there was a chance, even with Sirius having altered his appearance with glamors to change his hair and eye colour and shifting his accent to something a little more Wales - something he had apparently learned to mimic from a fellow Gryffindor back in his own Hogwarts days in order to pull off a couple of pranks - that she might figure out who Sirius actually was. In the end it had worked well enough for them to explain what they were after and put the rush on it so it would be ready for pick up right alongside Harry’s own things. Harry had ended up paying too, just in case.

He had paid extra as well in order to have a couple of assistants Madam Malkin usually had for busier points in the season come in to assist in the work this time since it well beyond the amount of work any one person could realistically get done on their own in the time crunch they had. Even with magic to speed the process and to make things easier.

Following their business with Madam Malkin they careened into the luggage shop where the proprietor assured them that discretion was part of the status quo for the shop and that there was apparently no actual written law stating that stores could not sell their goods or services to an individual that was wanted by the law. Sirius had had quite a laugh at that, apparently it was something that several aurors had tried to get changed over the years, but it still hadn’t been done and now it was actually helping him when he had once been one of the aurors who had tried to change it. So Sirius purchased a new trunk of his own, admittedly not as impressive as the one Harry had bought, but with a few bells and whistles to make life easier. He had also taken the time to purchase a messenger back like Harry’s new one so he could keep a small supply of things on him at all times.

That finished they made their way down the alley to the ever bright and comparably spacious Flourish & Blotts bookstore.

What had started as Harry planning to pick up a couple of books to entertain himself and a few more that were purely educational to keep up with his magical education and to teach himself a few skills he might need, had rapidly turned into more. Especially after Sirius pointed out that neither of them knew how to build a house, and in fact barely knew one end of a hammer from the other - though Harry was ahead of the curve here thanks to being the Dursleys live-in handyman - and that the goblins and whoever else was going would be too busy taking care of their own shelters to give them a hand. So skill books of every sort and competency level were quickly dumped into their expanded holding baskets, charmed both to allow a seriously ridiculous amount of books to be placed with them and for the whole thing to remain featherlite. Considering the number of books, both Harry and Sirius were very glad for them.

So in went books on building, on gardening, on first aid and healing. In went books on cleaning and repairing things with magic. Comprehensive potions manuals, charms and transfiguration and defense. Books on runes, warding and duelling. Customs, laws, history, etiquette and many, many more.

In had gone a smaller book, full of little stories and pictures, the works of a man named Beedle whose book James had bought years ago with the intention of sharing with his wife and infant son, all the stories he had loved in his own childhood. Harry and Sirius had bumped shoulders - or close enough given their size difference - in a silent show of comfort for people and chances lost.

Into Sirius’s basket went an eclectic selection, things he had wanted to learn but had not gotten around to and then hadn’t had the option. Additionally he had picked up several things that had been recommended to him by others, friends or people that had called themselves his friends. The expression of the clerk that had been working the counter and had become steadily more and more shocked at the size of each purchase had had them fighting down their amusement. As had the Whizz Hardbooks clerks expression, and the ones they received from the shopkeep at Obscurus Books and the second hand bookstore near Ollivanders. It had been a three hour riot of stop and start activity interspersed with questions and debate about everything from the subject matter of the books to the merit of the authors that had penned them.

When they had finally put away all their new - or second hand new - books in their trunks and had shrunk them again they had made their way into Nolpie’s Botanical Novelties where they very carefully, with the help of the proprietor set about picking out a selection of plants that were a little out of the ordinary, even by wizard standards, but would have their own uses. Like the willow tree with crystals for leaves that could be combined with charms and rune work to create a form of artificial bioluminescence which would help light their settlement. Not, of course, that they told the clerk much about the place and the reasons for the selection of plants. Merely that they were going to be planted at a holiday manor and they had a fancy for plants and things that had multiple benefits. With that in mind the old man had readily pointed out several others. A batch of sunflowers that ate impurities in the air and soil around them, muggle and magical. A positively giant carnivorous fern tree that served as a natural attractant and trap for doxies and date-tree that dropped pine shaped coconuts whose juices could be rendered down into a natural sun cream and whose flesh was as sweet as sugar.

It put Harry in mind of Neville and the way he almost always saw him reading about plants of some type in his spare time. Idly he wondered if he spent a lot of time there during the holidays. 

The trip into Mulligrubs Materia Medica was even more educational than the one into Nolpie’s had been as he ended up being given a crash course in how to properly care for the wealth of medicinal plants he’s purchased, including which thrived best in greenhouses and what ones needed to be harvested during specific phases of the moon. It was a little mind blowing if he were honest, he hadn’t given much thought to magical plants, having assumed that they were just like muggle ones. As it turned out, the assumption was both correct and incorrect on a very wibbly wobbly case by case basis. He had ended up leaning over his new trunk with the proprietor carefully adjusting multiple compartments to the correct temperature and humidity levels for the different plants for almost forty minutes while a still disguised Sirius alternated between reading one of his new books, poking at a snapdragon that had spot on the counter for decor and half listening to the lecture.

Once done they made a quick stop-in at Eeylops Owl Emporium to buy a couple owls that were bred for long distance flight which would serve as one of their main forms of communication until they could learn to communicate through more advanced forms of scrying or set up something more permanent. Though that would come later. They also picked up enough supplies for the owls and Hedwig to last them for a good long while.

Finally though, it was time for the last stop for the day before they had to head back to Madam Malkin’s to pick up their new clothes. That was to the House-Elf Placement Agency located in Carkitt Market just off the intersection of Diagon Alley and Horizont Alley. Just looking at the outside of the building Harry wasn’t sure what to think. It was very clean, but also quite bland, especially compared to most of the other shops in the district. Faded grey-green paint covered the wooden front of the building with an equally faded pastel pink used on the windows and door. The little embellishment on the storefront blankly advertising ‘Domestic Help’, ‘Steadfast Staff’ and ‘Endorsed Elves’. As far as facings went for shops and service agencies, Harry had definitely seen better.

Just a few stores down was the Globus Mundi Travel agency, done in bold blues and browns with little globes, parchment maps and cameras in the window to give passerbys a solid idea of what they did. Staring at the Placement Agency Harry had no clue, though at this point he was half sure the door - with it’s hinges on the outside of the building, which was terribly unsafe - could open up into some form of twisted horror show.

The only house-elf Harry had really met was Dobby and though he tried not to pry too much, he could tell the currently free elf had been poorly treated by the family he had worked for. Being kicked around and ordered to slam his head against things if he failed in a task. Supposedly, according to Hermione who had read it in Hogwarts: A History, there were several hundred house-elves working in Hogwarts doing the cooking and most of the cleaning, though he’d never actually met any of them since they stayed hidden out of the way. Sirius hadn’t mentioned much about them either when they had discussed the order they would follow the list in. Just that House-Elves form a very strong bond with the witch or wizard they’re bonded to and that after a while they can mimic the thoughts and personalities of their bonded family leaders, something that was fine if those people were kind and compassionate but could easily go the opposite way if their master was an evil twisted person.

From the faraway look in his godfather's glamor-blue eyes, Harry thought that he was maybe thinking of his own family and their house-elves.

Shoring up his courage, Harry drew himself up and briskly approached the pale pink door with it’s hinges on the outside and pulled open the door. Much like many of the shops in the district, it was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, space being distorted to give the occupants more room. It was also lit reasonably well and a strange mix of sunshine yellow and golden orange that made him think he could almost taste an after flavour of citrus on the back of his tongue. Stepping into the agency proper let him spot a large noticeboard on one wall that seemed to have advertisements about training classes for established House-Elves and suggestions and recommendations for everything from rooms, gifts and uniforms for them. Although those were mostly buried by advertisements for local events, so he had the feeling that not many people actually read them.

The counter that stood about two meters from the door was painted an unfortunate pea-soup green that somehow managed to clash with everything else in the room and seem like it had a chip on it’s shoulder about it.

“Good evening, welcome to the House-Elf Placement Agency, my name is Augustine Rutherwood and I’ll be assisting you today.”

Turning to face the voice Harry had to look up, and up because he was faced with the tallest - after Hagrid, of course - and skinniest man he’d ever seen. He had a very bald and shiny head that reflected the light in the room and was dressed in a black suit and robes like he had gotten dressed to go somewhere fancy but had gotten lost along the way. “Ah, yes, hello. I’m Harry, I’m afraid I’m not sure of the procedure but I wanted to adopt some House-Elves?”

“Not to worry, we tend to keep things quite simple here to make the whole process run smoothly. You’ll need to fill out some forms of course, and take a test to measure your magical energy output to make sure you can adequately sustain a bond with your chosen House-Elf or Elves. As we say, ‘A healthy bond, a happy home’.” The man, Rutherwood, told them, though his attention was primarily on Sirius who was standing behind Harry, even though Harry had been the one to speak and introduce himself. He gave Sirius a nod and Harry a smile that was almost but not quite condescending before bending over to reach under the hideous desk. He had a thick stack of papers in hand when he straightened and set them on the edge of the counter, not quite subtly nudging them towards Sirius. “If the lord of the house will fill out these forms, I’ll just duck in back to retrieve the item for the test.”

He turned away from them and made his way back towards the door opposite the entry door that he’d appeared from just moments ago, leaving Sirius and Harry to turn and exchange a long look.

“How rude.” Harry said, huffing a little at the snub and reaching for the stack of forms and the conspicuously placed inkwell and quill. “Just because I’m a bit young.”

“Probably thought I was your dad or uncle or something.” Sirius murmured with a shake of his head, pale curling hair bouncing about his shoulders.

The teen laughed as he worked on filling out his details as required by the registration forms. “The uncle part isn’t too far off.” He shot back over his shoulder. “You’re already off to a better start than Vernon. Although that’s not really saying much since he set the bar so low you’d need a shovel to reach it.”

“Nonono! I’m so very sorry if my instructions were unclear!” The tall man called out as he appeared again with a cloth wrapped bundle in his hands. “For the registration forms to be successfully accepted to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, they must be filled out, signed and sealed by the head of your household.”

Harry blinked up at the man, expression rapidly shifting into deadpan. “I’m trying but for some reason you’re interrupting me.”

Behind him Sirius laughed while Rutherwood sputtered. After a moment Sirius let his hand rest on Harry’s shoulder, not bothering to hide his amusement with the situation at all, given how clearly Harry could hear it in his voice. “Maybe a more formal introduction will help. Mr...Rutherwood was it? Right, please allow me the great pleasure of introducing you to Lord Harry James Hyperion Potter, Sovereign and Master of the most ancient and noble House of Potter.”

Seeing the man reduced to the same gaping mouth movements as a landed fish, Harry took a moment to twist around so he could stare up at Sirius for a long moment. “You’re enjoying this.” He accused in an amused whisper, a little amused himself at the other man's behavior. Also, the use of the words ‘Sovereign and Master’were an interesting, if slightly confusing addition. And ‘ancient and noble’ was new too. The noble part at least, though given what both Griphook and Sirius had said about Harry’s role in the new settlement, he was wondering if it was just one of those things he was just going to have to get used to.

“Very much, yes.”

Rolling his eyes but doing nothing to hide his own grin, Harry turned back to the documents he had been trying to fill in and got back to work, raising his left hand with it’s house crest baring signet ring for the man to study since thus far it seemed to sort out these little hiccups better than his words had in the few instances it had come up today. When it started, he let the stammered apologies flow over him and instead focused on the task at hand, intent on getting it done so they could move along with the whole process which was turning out to be both more and less ghastly as he had originally thought it would be, albeit for different reasons. Once he had filled out as much information as he could he returned the quill to its stand beside the inkwell and spun the forms around to indicate that they were done.

“Right, so you said that there was a test?” He asked pointedly, cutting through the bald man's gushing.

“Yes, of course.” Rutherwood agreed quickly, drawing himself up to his full height and making Harry wonder for a moment if he was like Hagrid, a half-giant. “This is a magical measurer, you might have seen others similar set up in joke shops, but I assure you it is not a toy. When you place your hand upon it, merely chanel a little of your magic into it and it will light up with a colour and intensity that will allow us to gain a rough approximation of your native pool of power and by extension how many magical bonds we would realistically be able to support with that pool.”

“What do the colours mean?” Harry asked curiously, staring at the crystal ball with its engraved runes sitting clear and innocent in its cradle of thick fabric.

“It’s a gradient scale, like how different colours of fire are hotter. In this case the scale goes from yellow being the weakest, then orange, red, pink, purple, dark blue, light blue and finally white. The colour it the orb shows measures the overall size of a person's magical core, while the brightness it radiates shows the depth of power.” Sirius explained, storm coloured eyes fixed on it. “All pureblood families have one tucked away somewhere that they use to keep tabs on their kids' magical growth so they can rub it in each other's faces at tea parties. It’s supposed to get measured at seven, fourteen and twenty one. So before, during and after your core education is completed. You never had your initial measuring so we’ve nothing to compare this one to, but you’re fourteen now so at least you’re getting this measurement done at the right time.”

“Quite so, so if you’ll place a hand upon the crystal, Lord Potter…”

Giving a shrug Harry reached a hand out to rest against the oddly warm crystal ball and pushed the static tingle that he identified as his magic toward the thing and was immediately engulfed by white.

A large warm hand slapped over his eyes and the pressure from it jerked him backwards, effectively tearing him away from the orb.

“Sweet buggering _fuck_!” Came a harsh bark from beside him. The bright white light had died down as soon as his hand had left the orb and now his vision was a sea of large black spots behind Sirius’ protective hand which dropped a moment later. “Fuck, Pup, if this is you now I don’t know how we’re going to deal with it when you turn twenty-one.”

“I didn’t know that would happen!” Harry yelped in defense, reaching up to pull off his askew glasses so he could rub at his eyes something that he found did absolutely nothing to help.

“No, I assume not. Though thanks to your tutors' quick action our vision should clear in a few minutes, Lord Potter, have no fear.” Mr Rutherwood was quick to assure him, for all that he was currently unseen behind his rapid blinking and dancing spots. Neither Sirius or Harry made any effort to correct his assumption in regards to the animagus’ identity. “While we’re waiting, would you be so kind as to run through a list of skills you are looking for in your House-Elves?”

Harry shrugged and replaced his glasses, frame slightly bent from the excitement. “I need a small army really. I need ones that know how to build and do maintenance and renovations on buildings. I need elves who know how to cook, ones who know how to clean, I need House-Elves who know how to maintain a garden and take care of plants that are both magical and muggle for food and potion ingredients. I need a couple to take care of some orchards and ones who know how to defend myself or the property from intruders.”

“Quite a variety of skills, if I may say so, Lord Potter. May I perhaps know the approximate size of the property they’d be working on, at least so I can determine how many House-Elves you need.” Mr Rutherwood inquired politely, just as he was starting to come back into focus for Harry.

“About the size of a small village. Instead of building up or down, the people who constructed it had apparently decided to build outward.” Harry fibbed easily, though he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s a magically protected property so I can’t really go into too much detail, I’m sorry.”

“Of course, Lord Potter, say no more. We do have several elves with the talents you mentioned, how many were you hoping to take on today?” The man asked calmly, waving off Harry’s excuse as if it was something to be expected.

Which of course meant it was something he was **definitely** going to be looking into as soon as possible, given how frequently his wellbeing was in danger by either magical or muggle means. Maybe, something the goblins knew about or could at least point him to somewhere he could get started. If there was a way of using his magic to protect the home he was building then he absolutely needed to know it. He could not, would not, settle for a hodge-podge fit to their safe haven.

“All of them please.”

“Of...w-what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was a little harder to write. Firstly because of Harry and Sirius’ talk (written to the much repeated sounds of Get Home by Bastille) which made my unexpectedly emotional when I was trying to write it, even though we all know the song and dance tropes by now, they’ve been well marinated by the fandom (possibly too many euphemisms/analogies there).  
> And secondly because the trip to the House-Elf Placement Agency really didn’t want to cooperate, which is why it ended up being given the fade to black treatment at the end. I’d rather cut off slightly abruptly than have it drag into a painful affair that ruins the flow and feeling completely. Though it still feels a bit stilted to me, but I get the feeling that it’s going to take forever to get it into something I’m actually happy with and maybe not even or ever.
> 
> Usually my response to sections of story that don’t want to cooperate is to either scrap it entirely, put it on hold and work on something else or nudge it into something that’s adjacent to acceptable and leave it be so I don’t obsess and get so angry I get nothing else done.
> 
> So a question to the audience; are any of you also writers or artists of another vein, if so, how do you deal with stubborn spots that just refuse to satisfy your vision for the piece?
> 
> ~~~
> 
> If you want to chat about A Place Apart or with other readers, you may do so via the Discord Channel: Metalduck Garden ( https://discord.gg/krhgMsM ) which was created 1st Sept. 2020.  
> I'll be haunting it near constantly, so if you have more thoughts/questions than you can comfortably put in the comments, you're free to use the Discord as well.


	4. A Little Less Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accelerated plans and a Hop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick shoutout to all you lovelies who had fed me delicious kudos and taken the time to drop me a comment to share your thoughts and opinions with me. I appreciate every single one and I'm grateful for you all.
> 
> And yes, the title was inspired by Elvis, it seemed rather fitting.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next instalment in the adventure! :)

#### August 4th 1994 - Gringotts Wizard Bank, Diagon Alley, London

Yawning widely, Harry scrubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice. They were crammed into a huge hall deep beneath the London branch of Gringotts seated about the roughly worked stone floor and each balancing a plate of breakfast foods in their lap. By ‘they’ Harry of course meant himself, Sirius, the one hundred goblins who had been selected to go on the expedition, the livestock they would be taking with them, the giant mound of already shrunk down luggage they would be taking that contained their belongings and supplies. And of course, the three hundred House-Elves that had been crammed into their ‘rooms’ at the H.E.R.A that Harry had insisted on adopting on the off chance that the next person to come along could have been someone like the Malfoys or worse, and that really they needed quite a lot of help.

Sirius for his part had laughed and laughed, but had also given a few pointed reminders that House Potter had deep pockets and could easily support that many elves. And since they had enough work to go around and Harry himself as lord of the House was strong enough to support a bond with each and every one of them - plus some more - there was no reason that Harry be denied what he wanted.

So Harry gained a small army of House-Elves who each looked at him like he had hung the moon and the stars, since it turned out that there were quite a few little families amongst the big group which would have been split up if not for Harry. He had spent hours before finally falling asleep somewhere near four in the morning trying to learn all their names and call-names, since apparently those were different. Each Elf being gifted a name by their parents at birth just like humans but later shortening it down and sticking an IE or a Y sound at the end that apparently helped them distinguish between when their master was actually calling for them and when they were talking to another guest or member of the family and that it was quite rare for a House-Elf to not have an abbreviated call-name.

Honestly Harry hadn’t thought there was that much to House-Elf names, the few that he had heard about. Though Sirius had quietly told him about the Black family House-Elf who’s name was Kreacher and hadn’t been given a call-name because his mother, the late Lady Black had thought it demeaned her to give their House-Elf a name that sounded remotely affectionate. So Kreacher instead had existed on egg shells, getting punished every time he had mistakenly shown up when she had been talking about creatures since the word and the name sounded the same - something that apparently happened a lot since she had had less than kind opinions about most magical beings and wasn’t shy about shouting them from the rooftops - right up until he got used to listening to the slight uptick in volume and pitch that would mean she was calling for Kreacher instead of having a rant about some other poor beast.

He had also found out that, after explaining to them exactly what was going on, the House-Elves were over the moon with the very idea of all the hard work they all had to look forward to going forward. Glimmertooth, one of the goblin females - a hunter - going with them, had explained that most of the fae races thrived in adversity and experiencing new things, by throwing themselves into life and it’s many ups and downs. So much so that to experience something new could add years to a fae life, particularly goblin and elves who were cousins of sorts. So he maybe wasn’t completely imagining it when he looked about at some of the older house-elves who had been sitting around the agency for a while and thought that they maybe looked a little less wrinkly than he had first thought. Originally he had chalked it up to a difference of lighting, but now he knew it was possibly something else.

It might also explain why Professor Flitwick had been so very very old looking during Harry’s first year at Hogwarts, but the following year, only a few short months later he had been quite a bit younger. Several theories had floated around the younger years that had covered everything from de-ageing potions, secret sons and illegal time-turners. But according to what Glimmertooth had told him, if the professor was a half-goblin like the rumours suggested, then boredom could have been prematurely ageing him, literally taking years from his life.

It made Harry consider what could have happened to the professor in those few months that would have given him such a new lease on life. Literally. Or really, how boring his life the previous years must have been for him to be so terribly old looking during Harry’s first year.

Mysteriously ageing - or de-ageing - professors aside, Harry had a bit more information about the two magical races that were going to be putting in a lot of hard work alongside him and he was finding that he was eager to learn more. The things he had learned just the previous evening hadn’t been mentioned in any of his school books. Though admittedly he had not been very far through his Hogwarts education, so it was possible the information would have come up later in the curriculum. Either way he was now in a position to learn from the peoples themselves, something he trusted a lot more than hearsay, thanks to all the lies his relatives had spread about him that people just accepted. All the things about Sirius too, though even he could admit the situation with his godfather was much more complicated.

Speaking of Sirius, the man himself was propped up beside him looking much like himself since the extent of Griphook’s reaction to Sirius’ presence and Harry’s insistence that his godfather would be accompanying him was to point blank tell him that he would be making it known to Gringotts staff that Lord Black had properly taken up his House and would be taking part in the expedition and that any action from him that upset the possible success of the venture would be met with a swift, sharp response. He’d then shrugged and added Sirius’ name to the list of individuals departing and reworked the calculations for the new number of mouths needing to be fed after having watched Sirius slip on his family signet. Though his expression remained neutral, Harry couldn’t help the vague impression that maybe his account manager had been half hoping the last mainline Black son had keeled over instead.

His godfather had also taken off with a dozen borrowed house-elves to pack up a bunch of his old belongings. Dark or cursed items that he didn’t want to risk anyone being hurt by since some friends were also the Black family London residence as a safehouse of sorts. Similarly he had apparently packed up the family library, or at least the books either written by a Black, were dark or cursed, or that he thought might contain useful information for either the expedition at large or for Harry’s education. He had also left very strict orders with the family house-elf and had left a ‘not-too-detailed but detailed’ note for Remus, letting him know he was free to use his room and things since he would be out of the country for quite a while and asking him to make sure the old place didn’t burn down accidentally. At least not until Sirius was back in the country and could toast the burning wreck with a bottle of cheap muggle beer.

The last part he had said half-joking, half-serious to Harry when he had gotten back.

Harry had written four letters of his own. One to Ron giving him a rough explanation, one to Hermione giving her a slightly more detailed one and asking her to continue to look after his photo albums with their pictures of his parents and their friends and the box of home videos that Sirius had given him for Christmas. Tapes and tapes of the Marauders and Lily. Tapes of his mum pregnant with him. Tapes of his mum and dad huddled over him, newly born, smiling and crying and introducing him to Moony who had been behind the camera at the time while Sirius had come around the other side opposite to James and had greeted baby Harry and given his blessings.

There was even a tape of his first birthday, though the quality apparently went a little funny when Harry had been zipping around on his first ever broom. The effect magic has on most technology, Sirius had explained when he had pointed out which tapes where which before they had been forced to separate. So given how important they were to Harry, he had asked a slightly teary Hermione if she would keep them ast her house to keep them safe since he hadn’t trusted the Dursleys not to destroy them if they were accidentally uncovered. The last two letters had been much more formal and had been addressed to the Ministry - via the department for magical education - and to Hogwarts - via the Headmaster - stating that he would be out of the country on business for an extended period of time and that his education would be continued by private tutors.

Griphook had gotten on of Gringotts’ on staff lawyers to help him write them up so they would legally air-tight and concisely pointed out that as Lord of his House he had full power over the general lives - including but not limited to, the education and place of residence - of all members of his House, including himself, obviously. He’d also had to fill out some paperwork the same goblin had brought with him, one chunk that would have him registered as an emancipated minor with the muggle authorities and one lot that would take care of his passport - wizard and muggle - so that he could travel with relative ease later on if he needed to. Boulderoath, one of the goblin lawyers that would accompanying the group to work on setting up the legal system amongst other things, had told him that it was better to have as much documentation done with ahead of time where possible in order to make sure he would be as covered as possible later on since it would leave him better prepared for unforeseen circumstances and leave enough of a trail that could be used to prove intent, in his defense.

He had also signed the documents necessary for the enormous sale that was purchasing the land from the goblins and instating himself, officially as it’s Lord - as far as paperwork was concerned at least, there was apparently a couple of rituals he would need to do to bind the land to him properly - and officially recognising it as Volstar Kingdom whose capital would be Skyfall. Names that had been picked for the large meteor that had crashed down centuries ago creating a crater that had later filled to become a natural lake close to the point that had been chosen for the first and main capital of the new country. Places which happened to align just about perfectly with one of the ley lines that ran through it from coast to coast, north-east to south-west, following the path of the sun and moon.

The remainder of the evening after Sirius and his merry band of helpers had returned was spent double checking the things they had packed to ensure they had everything, and rummaging through the things the army of elves had been sent out to retrieve. Namely the mundane plants, bolts of fabric, tools, livestock and so on. The things that were needed but took more time and magic than Harry or Sirius or the goblins could focus on in light of time constraints and the rest of the tasks they had to prioritize.

Like getting ready for a dawn departure the following morning, since the inclusion of Sirius Orion Black the Third.

Someone that was currently wanted - however wrongly - by the government of Wizarding Great Britain, had tipped the scale for the goblins from departure when everything was ready for stage one that week, to leaving the moment base preparations were complete with the understanding that the rest of what the Griphook had called phase one would follow as soon as was prudent. Since there were laws tied to the goblin nations legal right to settle and maintain their autonomy as an independent nation separate from Wizarding Great Britain and its Ministry of Magic that stated in a long and rather airtight fashion that no citizen of the Goblin Empire - as termed in the original agreement drafted centuries ago - could offer or otherwise bestow sanctuary on a witch or wizard of Wizarding Great Britain if they were sought by law enforcement in connection to a major crime. 

So they had settled down for a nap and plodded through their hearty breakfast that was goblin supplied and elf cooked, surrounded by a wealth of strangers and animals that were all united under a common goal. And as excited and determined as Harry was, he could still feel the angry knot of worry churning away in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. There were a lot of things that could go wrong, just like a quidditch game. You could plan all your ideal moves, all the counter-moves you wanted based on what you knew about your opponents, plan around expected weather and try to make the most of every moment. But in the end most of those plans fell to bits like a wizard's chest piece when something pops up that you didn’t plan for. Because despite what Hermione might say and think, no one could plan for _everything_.

So Harry forced down his breakfast since he knew he’d need it, even if it sat a little heavy in his stomach. Drank his juice and the potions the shaman Stoneshaker had given him to help boost his energy since apparently the ritual to bind and prepare the land for settlement would wear him out quite a bit. He had picked out an outfit from his new clothes that was mostly dragonhide - jacket, gloves, pants, boots and belt - with the inclusion of a red t-shirt since they couldn’t be sure how safe the area they would be transported to would actually be and the added protection of dragonhide had seemed like a smart plan. 

“Alright, Harry?”

Harry blinked and shifted a little to look up at Sirius who had sat himself down beside him for breakfast. “I’m fine, just nervous I guess. Now that we’re about to leave, I keep thinking about all the things that could go wrong.”

Sirius gave him a small smile, one arm reaching up to wrap around Harry’s shoulders to give them a squeeze. “Feeling nervous when you’re about to do something big is normal, pup. Being so wound up you feel like you’re about to sick-up all over the place when you’re tackling something this big just proves you understand the risk. It’s a monumental thing, literally something for the history books. The fact that you look ready to spew that delicious breakfast is actually pretty reassuring. It means even though you’re rushing in - in true Marauder style, too - you’re doing it with eyes wide open. You’re not ignorant to the potential pitfalls and disasters that could turn it all tits up. It means you’re taking it seriously and you’re going to keep taking it seriously. The best we can do is take it a step at a time, a problem at a time and remember we’re not in this alone.”

The teen stared across the small distance between them, taking in the gentle strength in the older man's countenance before letting the tension he’d woken with go with a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It just feels really big suddenly, I guess.”

“That’s because it is, this whole thing is huge. You’ve just finally slowed down enough that it finally has a chance to sink in.” Sirius pointed out, turning his grey gaze back to his plate and using the remains of his bread roll to mop up the egg yolk that had oozed all over the plate. “That’s the way it always is if you’re impulsive. You decide to do a thing, you start doing a thing, you realise that you’re actually doing a thing and what it means, you decide whether to follow through and keep going or not and then finally you deal with the fallout of having either done the thing or not. It’s the way the Marauders lived back at Hogwarts...and after Hogwarts if I’m being honest. At least when Lily wasn’t around to draw us up by the short and curlies. She got really good at telling when we were getting up to no good. Except Moony, devious bastard, he always managed to sneak past everyone's notice. Lily and the professors.”

Harry grinned at that. “It’s the same with Hermione. She’s so quiet and focused on her books most of the time that none of the professors realise how involved she is in half the stuff Ron and I get up to. Really, they should just assume that if Ron and I are getting up to mischief then Hermione is in on it too, or at least knows about it.”

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Sirius laughed before holding his plate out to one of the house-elves that popped up beside him and giving the small figure a smile.

They sank into silence for a few moments watching quietly while the house-elves and goblins ran through their own last minute tasks. Eventually though Harry turned back to Sirius, his expression just a touch concerned. “Are you sure you want to go with us, Sirius, if you stayed here you could try and get your name cleared or at least spend time with Professor Lupin or something. You wouldn’t be stuck in another country with shaky chances of ever going back.”

“I’m sure, Pup. Really sure.” The older man told him, voice firm. “We did some checking after you and I parted ways. And unless the Ministry magics up some brains or at least gets at least a little less corrupt, I’m not going to get a chance to set the records straight. I’d be spending who knows how long, mostly stuck in a house that’s full of terrible memories for me, just because it’s safer than the alternatives. Besides, the way I see it the best thing I can do is teach you how to fight and survive. With Wormtail out there and You-Know-Who apparently present enough to possess people, if what I heard about your first year was right, it won’t be long before things start to go bad. Anyone who actually fought in the first war will tell you the same. A storm is coming Harry, the best thing either of us can do is get ourselves fighting fit and be as prepared as possible. Us getting away from here for a bit is really the easiest way we can get it done, despite the other risks.”

Harry gave the animagus a nod as he chewed over that, letting the information settle in with the rest of the bits and pieces he knew. The things he had either been told or figured out for himself. More of the latter than the former really. But he couldn’t do much about it, any of it. At least not yet..

 _Build a home first_ , Harry thought, _the rest can come after._

There was a loud clamour from the far side of the room and Harry looked up, following the noise to a small group of humans that had entered the hall and were setting down luggage in the large pile near the wall.

Harry swept his green eyes over the lot, assuming that these were the human employees that had passed the vetting process Griphook had mentioned the previous day. They were under contract with Gringotts, bound to secrecy and skilled enough to be an asset when it came to building the human facet of the new settlement. Some of them would just be skilled workers, but a couple were apparently trained to act as liaisons between mixed race groups. The skills in the group ranged from herbologists, craftsmen of all sorts, healers, potioneers and even a couple of farmers. Probably more, since Harry had already been overwhelmed when Griphook had been filling him in on the choices the day before.

He could admit that a fair amount of information had gone in one ear and out the other.

A fall of bright red hair and a face he remembers seeing in a news clipping the year before grabs at the teens attention and he straightens, nudging Sirius with his elbow. “I think that’s one of Ron’s older brothers. I think I remember his face from that news article last year...I think Ron said one of his older brothers got a job with Gringotts.”

Sirius mirrors Harry, straightening his spine to see over the heads of the elves and goblins sitting around them. He scrutinises the figure that’s talking to some of the other humans and gesturing at the different piles before shrugging. “One way to find out, I guess…” He says before shooting Harry a grin and raising his voice. “Oi, Weasley!”

At the shout Harry promptly chokes on air and doubles over in a coughing fit while Sirius laughs and hits him on the back. Something Harry is almost positive is just making it worse. When he’s able to look up again the redhead he had spotted is drawing up to them and shifting to carefully crouch in the small space available.

“Well, this explains all the hush-hush from the goblins.” The man said wryly, looking them both over and then blinking in surprise at Harry but offers a hand to shake regardless. “We haven’t been introduced, I’m Bill Weasley, and I’m pretty sure my mum is going to go nuts when she finds out Ron’s best mate has gone for a walk about to another country.”

Reaching out to shake the offered left hand of the now identified eldest son of the Weasley horde, Harry gave him a slight grimace. “Ron said you work as a curse breaker for Gringotts.” He said, trying to lead the conversation in a different direction.

Bill gave Harry a nod after giving Sirius’ left hand a shake. “That’s the job description, I specialised towards magical protections on structures, which apparently translates well to this venture, since if you know how to break them, you know how to build them. Which is apparently what I’m primarily going to be doing for the next while?”

“How much did they actually tell you about the work?” Sirius asked, relaxing his posture as it became clear that either Molly or Arthur had filled their eldest in on his status.

“Half as much as I’d have liked, really, but enough to know that I’d be gone for a couple of years at least.” Bill answered with a shrug. “They’re playing this one very close to the chest, so they’ve probably got a lot riding on it.”

“They’re making Harry king of his own country.” Sirius informed him with a grin.

The redhead blinked, mouth opening and closing several times as he glanced back and forward between Harry and Sirius before eventually settling on Sirius. “What?”

“The short version is that Harry here decided yesterday that he wanted a vacation from his life, so the goblins gave him his ring and asked him if he wanted to buy a chunk of land from them and make his own country.” Sirius explained with a shrug, ignoring the prodding he was getting from a frowning Harry. “So we’re going to set up a new magical community, a country that’s one-hundred percent magical from its inception and as modern and safe as we can make it, because wizarding britain is less than great these days and we can do better.”

“Sirius!”

“It’s true!”

Bill looked from one to the other again before sitting back on his heels. “Right, I’m going to assume there’s a bit more to it than that. But since we’re about to take off I’ll wait until we’ve had a chance to settle in on the other side. I’m acting team leader for the humans until we get over the other side, which is when I guess you’ll be taking charge of the lot of us if what Lord Black said is accurate. For now though, I think I’d best fill in the rest of the team so we’re all on the same page and they can start making proper plans for the first step.”

Harry gave him a nod and watched as the tall redhead quickly got up to head back to the group that was still loitering near the piled baggage. Judging from the surprised squawks coming from the bunch, they seemed to know just as much as Bill had. Harry could see a few of them lean to the side to peer around Bill at him. “That’s going to happen a lot, isn’t it?”

“Probably, at least for a little while.” Sirius agreed, reaching up to absently scratch at his trimmed beard. “On the upside, everyone will be so busy for a while that no one will have time to stand on formality and any time we’re not all busy, we’ll all be too tired to bother.”

“I don’t know if that helps, really.” Harry muttered, tearing his eyes away from the small group of humans as Griphook climbed up on a box and loudly cleared his throat.

“Preparations are complete, everyone not making the trip to Volstar should leave the boundary of the ritual space or you risk being dragged along and stuck there!” He announced to the group, raising his voice so he could be heady by everyone and over the livestock. “Everyone taking part in the expedition should be standing as relaxed as possible within the boundaries. The sending ritual will commence in ten minutes from now, so make sure you have your belongings with you and that you aren’t standing in the spaces reserved for livestock or luggage!”

Heaving a deep steadying breath Harry and Sirius helped each other up and did a last minute check that their messenger bags were firmly in place and unlikely to be dislodged in the event of a rough landing. Neither of them had travelled via goblin ritual of translocation before, nor had they heard any mention of anyone else having done so, so they had no idea what to expect. Harry personally was mildly concerned since he had a bad history thus far with magical travel. Most of it just didn’t agree with him. This one even came with a warning from Griphook that it could be ‘quite jarring’, particularly for powerful individuals because apparently sometimes their magic would try to instinctively fight the pull. 

After the test at the House-Elf Placement Agency Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to think about himself in terms of power and ability.

True he had lit up the crystal ball thing and he had successfully done a fair bit of magic that a lot of other people found very difficult, but on the other hand he had spent a very long time being told that he essentially wasn’t good enough.

Feeling weak and small.

Hermione might have been right. Maybe he should try and talk more about it all. Though, did the talks he’d had with Sirius so far count? Maybe he hadn’t explicitly said how it had all made him feel, but Harry felt that it was a given since he had effectively run away from home to escape it. Although, could it be called running away from home if the place you ran away from had never really been a home to you?

The deep, rough intonation of Gobbledegook that rumbled its way across the cavern like a rockslide ripped Harry from his musings and he found himself instantly tensing despite the recent reminder that he should be relaxed. It was like how peeling off a bandaid seemed to feel so much worse than just ripping it off without looking. He was aware, he knew what was going to happen, could feel the building magic tingle up his spine. Could feel it raising the hairs on the back of his neck, on his arms, his legs. He could taste it in the air, pulsing, building, lapping at his skin.

Wide green eyes spun up to Sirius’ grey and the teen had a split second to see the concern that was focused back down at him before the world went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of groggy groans and grumbles grabbed at Sirius’ attention while he tried the shove down his own disorientation. He squinted through the vertigo long enough to find Harry still beside him, his body collapsed in the long grass, and sank down to his knees beside him. His hands flew out to catch himself before he could faceplant the grass and he shifted so he was firmly seated at his godson's shoulder. They’d been warned that the translocation could be a bit rough for them since it had been created with goblin physiology and the transport of non-living goods in mind. The house-elves were expected to be fine since they shared a common ancestor to the goblins and therefore had a similar form and the livestock though being alive and not remotely similar to Goblins and elves, did lack magic of their own to interfere.

So really all the self-pitying and disorientated groaning he could hear around him was all coming from the fifty or so humans that had been hired on by the goblins to go with them. If he wasn’t so sure the act would upchuck his delicious breakfast all over his apparently unconscious godson, Sirius probably would have laughed.

Instead he busied himself with carefully looking over Harry, checking that his heart was still beating away and that he wasn’t having trouble breathing before carefully straightening the teens limbs out so he wouldn’t have any odd cramps or strained muscles whenever he came to. That done and nausea abated, Sirius cast his gaze up to find himself and Harry on the receiving end of a couple hundred concerned house-elves’ attention.

“He’s alright, just knocked a bit senseless. Should wake up soon.” He told them then paused in consideration.

From the sounds of it the worst of the grumbling had passed so everyone would be ready to get started on settling the area and while the house-elves and probably the humans of the group would probably be fine on waiting for Harry to come to, the goblins would probably not, industrious people that they were. So they would need to at least get started on sorting things sooner rather than later. Recalling the stilted bits of conversation he and Harry had had the day before, Sirius scanned the horizon to orientate himself, taking in the brightening sky as dawn started to chase back the night. They’d be gaining light fairly rapidly now, but it would be a little while yet before they had enough light to confidently explore the landscape without judicious use of the lumos spell or its equivalent.

That in mind, Sirius steadily climbed back to his feet, wary of lingering vertigo before he raised his fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle. “Gather round everyone that can move, we’ll go over some first tasks and get a move on setting up base camp!” He called out to the large group before flicking his gaze down to his godson who was being covered by a blanket one of the house-elves had retrieved from a pack.

“Is Lord Potter well?” A gravelly voice asked from his right.

Sirius turned to give the goblin a nod. “Fine, just got knocked for six by the jump. Griphook and Shaman Stonefist warned us it might happen since he’s particularly powerful, especially for his age.” His explanation got a nod and a few speculative glances tossed Harry’s way by the witches and wizards in the group. “Now, this spot will be marked out as our designated transport point for apparition and out of city travel, can a small group of elves see to marking out a one-hundred-fifty meter square area centred on the middle of our arrival point, trim down the grass and mark off its borders so we can build in and around it later on?”

A quick shuffle between the elves and a handful of quiet pops saw a group of ten house-elves getting to work without a fuss.

“Until we have the area sorted and defences in place, everyone travels with a house-elf. In case of emergency, elves are to transport themselves and their companion back to this apparition point. From there we can deal with whatever situation popped up. We’ll be setting up base camp about five-hundred meters that way so we’re out of the way of our early construction but still well within range to hear if someone has to emergency aparate.” He added, gesturing further right. “Hunters, Farmers, Potioneers are to team up with an elf companion and start looking over the land and making note of sites of interest. The rest of us will be focused on getting the camp up and running, once Harry’s up and running again he’ll be sitting down with the craftsmen to start drawing up plans for Skyfall. Until then you should take inventory of the building materials we have in the luggage and make a running list of what you expect to need restocked sooner rather than later.”

He waited a moment to make sure everyone was on the same page so far before moving on.

“The rest of the house-elves will need to provide assistance where possible and will be setting out the luggage in a neat stockpile so we can get at it without hassle. Guards will need to set up a defensive perimeter around the area while the rest of the goblins already know what they need to do. Group leads will be as follows, Bill Weasley for the humans, Goldhammer for the goblins and Tilander whose call-name is Tilly for the House-Elves. If you run into a problem or question you can take it to them if for some reason you can’t get to Harry or myself. We’ll all be meeting a couple times a week at least to make sure everyone is informed and working as smoothly as possible. For the next while Harry and I will be working in shifts, him during the day and me at night so that if there’s an emergency one of us will be up and ready to field it A.S.A.P. Any questions so far?”

“Who actually are you, we didn’t get told much before the jump?”

Sirius blinked then huffed a laugh. “Right, guess that’s important. I’m Sirius Orion Black the Third, Lord of the House of Black and godfather of the sovereign of these lands, Harry James Hyperion Potter, Lord of the House of Potter and King of Volstar.” He announced with a grin then seeing the alarmed expression on several human faces raised a hand. “No I did not betray my best friends, I am not now nor have I ever been a Death Eater I was however imprisoned without trial by the Ministry for Wizarding Great Britain and I did escape my unlawful detainment very recently. That last bit is about all the papers got right. If you have questions regarding my illegal incarceration, you can find my later when we stop for one of our meals, until then everyone needs to be focused on their work if we’re going to get anything done.”

There was a bit of muttering but the large group split up peacefully not long after to get to work, most heading for the luggage and livestock to move them to their semi-permanent location that would house them until proper storage could be set up. The various leads were already getting to work directing the rest of their group to their tasks and only a small handful of elves were left standing with Sirius and Harry, clearly intent on sticking close in order to see to any jobs that popped up. With a sigh Sirius drew his ebony wand and carefully enchanted his godsons’ body to float a few feet above the ground, checked that the small blanket covering the teen was still well in place before leading the way off the landing space and towards the spot where tents were already being rapidly deployed a couple hundred meters away. His own tent - which had come standard with his trunk - was quickly erected with the help of the elves.

Ducking in through the flaps one of the elves held open for him, Sirius guided Harry’s unconscious form in behind him then to one of the plush looking long couches before setting him down and taking a look around the place.

In true wizard fashion it was much bigger on the inside, having only been about two meters long and one and a half meters wide and tall on the outside, on the inside the main room was nearly eight meters side and ten meters tall, consisting of multiple floors and connecting stair cases. There was a stone fireplace to one side, surrounded by comfortable looking cream coloured couches and armchairs, a couple bookshelves dotted one wall along with inoffensive landscape paintings and the odd potted fern. The floor itself was polished beechwood and the walls a cascade of golden fabric. There was a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, bouncing light in sparkles around the area.

Moving to inspect the various doorways, Sirius found that one led into a rather luxurious looking bathroom complete with clawfoot tub, while another led to a well appointed kitchen and dining area and the last into a decent sized office. The last, almost completely hidden by the flowy fabric walls was a small laundry room. 

Seeing no other rooms on the ground floor he hummed and trotted up the stairs to the left of the main room and began poking his head in the different doorways along the second level. He found two more bathrooms, six bedrooms of equal splendour, a surprisingly large room with dimensions obviously intended for house-elf use given the small stature of the furniture, a broom cupboard and a tea room that was near overflowing with plants and what appeared to be natural light. How the manufacturer had managed that last bit he had no clue. But the space was fine for what he needed, more than fine really since he had more bedrooms in the tent than he actually needed, even if Harry ended up having a room set aside for him. Which was a given, even if he had a tent of his own and a travelling manor in that ridiculous trunk of his.

Sometimes it was just nice to know you had a safe place waiting for you, somewhere you were welcome any time.

He should know, it’s what James had given him all those years ago. What both he and James had tried to give Remus once they had found their own feet.

 _Speaking of Moony, I wonder how long it’ll take him to find the letter._ Sirius pondered, slowly moving back down the stairs to where he left Harry passed out on one of the couches.

Remus had been staying at Grimmauld Place for the last week since he’d had an unfortunate disagreement with his most recent landlord but he had been out job hunting when Sirius had quickly popped back to pack up the bits he had planned to take with him and give his last orders to Kreacher for a while.

Which was really a lucky stroke since it would have been hell trying to get everything together with Remus doing his damndest to talk him - and by extension Harry - out of the venture. As things had turned out now, Remus was the de facto owner or resident of Grimmauld while he was gone, meaning he would feel obligated to stay there if only to keep it up in Sirius’ absence.

So, Moony had a guaranteed roof over his head which wouldn’t feel like charity - which he hated with a passion - and the Order when it inevitably came together, would have somewhere that could be secured to use as a base of operations. Just like they had used Longbottom Manor during the first war, though hopefully with less horrific end results.

In all the fanciful tales about the Boy that Lived, everyone forgot that it wasn’t just James and Lily Potter that had been betrayed. Peter, the snivelling worm, had given up everything he could. The entire Order had been compromised, every member, every safehouse, every important tidbit he could scrape together had been fed right into his twisted master's ear. The Order had lots more souls than any other group that had tried in big ways or small to oppose the growing regime of Great Britain’s homegrown Dark Lord. The resistance had been rife with activity, men and women willing to stand up and fight back at the monsters that had hidden themselves with masks and shadows.

And they’d died for it.

They’d fought and died, been tortured and mourned their nearest and dearest. Stood shoulder to shoulder and bore messages to loved ones from a brave soul that would not be coming home.

They stood.

And nobody knew.

They fought for everyone that could not fight.

And they weren’t even a whisper.

They endured more than any soul should ever know.

And the few that had known, had forgotten.

The brittle peace the wizarding world had clung to with the disappearance of it’s greatest terror was shattering, coming unraveled, slipping between their fingers like ash. They wouldn’t be ready to deal with what came after it was all gone, that much had been clear. Sirius knew more than most how desperately people could latch onto a thought, a desperate notion and forsake all else, all other evidence for the sake of what they _knew_. He’d spent more than a decade in hell because of that sort of mentality. The dangerous combination of desperate fear, self righteous anger and assumptions. People had died because of it. People _**would**_ die because of it and aside from a few world weary faces, hearts long since scarred from the last fight, there would be no one left to meet what was coming.

What would keep coming.

What had the potential to happen again and again unless they found out how the sick bastard had escaped death and permanently rectified the problem.

So Sirius would hide Harry away, one of the few people he had left that he considered family. One of the vulnerable few. He would hide him and teach him. Teach him how to sniff out trails like an auror, how to defend himself like a champion duelist, how to wage war like only a Marauder could. Guerilla warfare, nasty surprises that would distract and leave lasting impressions. Sirius would teach him how James had fought, how they’d fought together, watching each others’ back and unleashing pandemonium on their enemies. He’d teach his godson what he could remember of the charms and potions Lily had taught them, vicious, dangerous things that had left more than one safehouse well protected and more than one Death Eater writhing in agony.

Whatever else they had been, Lily and James had been warriors.

Sirius was going to show their son how to honour that legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, that last bit just railroaded right over me.
> 
> In regards to Sirius’ headspace...as much as Sirius has had nothing to think about for the past decade and a bit to focus on except Pettigrew’s betrayal, he’s also had nothing to think about except the war. He and the rest of the Order practically lived and breathed the fight and then all of a sudden it was done and gone. Everyone else that survived got to live day after day and slowly gain back normal lives, families, jobs. Sirius however was stuck in a tower being forced to relive his horrors again and again with only a little comfort from his animagus form.
> 
> So Padfoot is definitely not alright, but he is extremely focused. He has goals that he’s set himself and outcomes that he feels need to be avoided at all costs. Harry the poor sod has no idea exactly how fixated Sirius is on his growth and safety and the lengths he’s willing to go to, to make them both happen.
> 
> Anywho, please take a moment if you can to let me know what you thought of this chapter, any thoughts you have about the world that’s unravelling bit by bit, any thoughts or opinions you have about what the future might hold. I’m curious to know what you guys are thinking.


	5. Meeting the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rather discombobulating hop from England to Volstar, Harry comes to and has to take his first steps as a leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter? Must be Monday.
> 
> This one felt a little stop and start, though mostly because real world kept trying to get in the way. How dare it.  
> I was actually quite sick yesterday (just a stomach bug, no need to panic) so I was a little worried that I wouldn't get it finished on time after all the interruptions.  
> Ended up waking up at 3am this morning and couldn't fall asleep again so I used the time productively like a Responsible Person™ and get the last done and uploaded.  
> So, please all of you enjoy the fruits of my labours? agonies? attempts?

#### August 4th 1994 - Sirius Black's Tent, Skyfall territory, Volstar Kingdom

When Harry managed to swim back into consciousness, he found himself lying on a rather comfortable couch, covered by a small but warm blanket and being stared at by several pairs of large round eyes.

“Err, hello?”

The house-elves that had apparently been watching him sleep broke into bright smiles, expressions transforming from worry to relief. “Master Potter is awake!” They cried jubilantly.

“What happened?” Harry asked as he pushed himself up, swinging his feet off the couch so he could sit up and face them properly. He shifted his focus between the dozen or so house-elves in front of him and the room he had woken up in, taking in the furnishings and the sheer space. “Where are we?”

“Master Potter reacted poorly to the goblin travel. Lord Black brought you to his tent to rest.” One of the closest house-elves, one he had not had the chance to memorize the name of, asked as her small hands attempted to smooth out her pillowcase dress. “Would Master Potter care for some tea?”

Looking down at the earnest face framed by cotton white hair Harry gave a little nod. “Sure, some for Sirius too and yourselves if you’d like some as well.” He told her quietly before looking around again. “If this is Sirius’ tent, do any of you know where he actually is?”

“Up here, Pup.”

Harry twisted about in place, peering behind him towards a set of stairs he hadn’t noticed before, partly obscured by the flowy gold fabric that seemed to be the walls of the tent, or at least a disguise for the walls. “Sirius.”

The older man bounced down the last couple of steps and moved to stand next to the couch. “Alright, Harry?”

“Alright, I think. No offense to the goblins, but I think that might be my new least favourite way to travel.” He replied, making a face at the lingering memory of the sensation. It felt like he or his magic or both was being torn to pieces, tiny dust sized pieces blown and pulled in equal measure into something that was simultaneously very cold and boiling hot. It was bizarre and unsettling and the less times he had to travel that way, the better he’d be, he reckoned.

Sirius offered him a wry half smile and plopped himself down on the couch next to his godson. “I won’t say it’s the least pleasant thing I’ve experienced, but it’s definitely up there. You’ve been out for about fifteen minutes, give or take a little bit.” He said before quickly explaining the little that he’d missed while he had been unconscious.

Reaching for his travel bag that had been tucked out of the way beside the couch and flipped it open so he could rummage through it. Finding what he was after he pulled out a sketchbook that despite its small size had well over eight-hundred pages and a rune inscribed pencil tin. Both items had been a little on the expensive side but he thought they’d be well worth it in the end, especially the sketchers’ pencils in the tin. They were heavily enchanted and just one charcoal pencil was guaranteed to last an entire year before it ran out of pigment. Something Harry had thought was bloody brilliant since he liked to sketch things in his free time, a hobby that had started when he was very young, thanks to having filched some of his cousins broken crayons and realising he could draw doodles in the old phone books that got tossed into his cupboard.

“One of the elves just popped out to make some tea, could you grab who you think we’ll need to start the planning...the team leaders and the craftsmen I guess?” Harry asked Sirius, flicking his green eyes up to him before turning his focus back to his sketchbook where he was flipping open to the first crisp white page. “The sooner we have the first few necessities plotted out, the sooner we can settle into a rhythm.”

“Sure, Pup, give me about ten minutes to wrangle everyone.”

Harry grunted quietly in agreement, lightly smacking his cheeks as he shook off the last of the fogginess and picking up a pencil to start drafting up a rough list. Things like sewage and a small hospital were the first one the list, then farms and the town center where Gringotts and the main inn would be located. He noted the question of city lights to help keep things safer after the sun set and roads, roads that would need to stand up to foot traffic off all sorts and possibly carriages and carts. He made a note about formalizing the spot they had landed since the goblins had said they would use those coordinates each time they needed to transport something. There would also need to be some consideration on the topic of a rail system so each town would be as accessible as possible. 

From what he remembered from school basic city infrastructure, or the backbone as his teacher had called it, was summed up to nine basic subjects.

Roads, Airports, Shipports, Railways, Energy collection and distribution, Utilities which covered water and sewage, Education, Healthcare and Social. Social being things like theatres and sports stadiums, places people could go for entertainment. Roads, airports, ports and railways were how most people and things got moved from place to place for people without magic, things like freight for resources typically used ships and railways for bulky quantities and heavy items.

He knew already that they weren’t going to have to worry about trying to build an airport since the magic in the area would just make the planes not work. A port for boats might still be worthwhile though, since he knew some people liked to travel by ship, take cruises for travel and recreation. Also it would add another means for them to transport resources to and fro without needing to rely almost solely on the translocation ritual or apparition over long distances.

Social could be handled in the short term by having the ground floor of the inns be pubs and restaurants, or at least having those facilities built into the inns, via a side room or some such. Healthcare would be a must, even if the first hospital they built was only a small clinic close to the town center for emergencies. Education could stand to wait a little while until the rest was built, since there was really no point building it until there were people to teach, though Harry already knew that he wanted a school system that was a little more like the muggle one of primary, secondary and tertiary education than just having one school that took children from eleven to seventeen and anyone outside those ages had to make do somehow.

Harry also knew that he had no idea how the magical world dealt with water and sewage, only that they apparently did somehow.

Though he was fairly sure Griphook had mentioned that he would be sending someone with them that knew about things like that.

Sighing softly Harry paused in the act of sketching out his idea for the town center.

With every other point of city infrastructure either planned for - at least in part - or discarded like airports, that still left the subject of Energy. In muggle cities Energy would refer to electricity which would be produced in various ways and then distributed to houses and public structures to power everything from streetlights and tellies to the complex machines hospitals used to monitor and treat patients. Electricity wasn’t something they would need to worry about since it was well documented for its inability to mesh and coexist with magical energies. 

But, it did make Harry wonder, magical energy way exactly that, energy and if it could be measured and harnessed for personal use perhaps it could be pooled and then redistributed to help power magical devices like the wizarding wireless or even protective barriers. It was something Hermione had originally tossed out after they had become friends in their first year at Hogwarts, the idea of collecting magic to use later for bigger spells and rituals for people that weren’t particularly strong magically. It was a step to the left from her original idea but maybe something that would potentially work, maybe...it would be something he’d need to think about more at any rate.

Movement caught his attention and he raised green eyes from his sketch to see a well polished silver tea service set down on the small table in front of his couch along with a tray loaded down with various tea cakes and biscuits. There were several teacups on the tray, more than the two already planned for so Harry assumed the elves had set them out for the guests Sirius had gone to wrangle, since though he’d invited the house-elves to have tea with him he got the feeling that it might be a while before they got used to the idea that he actually did mean it when he said they were welcome to join him.

A commotion to his right brought his attention towards the curtained doorway - white opposed to the gold of the walls - that he assumed led to the outside in time to see Sirius stroll back into the tent and hold the curtain and its outer flap open for several other figures that ducked in behind him. “Pull up a seat, we’ve got plenty to cover, we may as well be comfortable.” Sirius said just a little loudly to the people piling in.

Harry recognised Bill Weasley easily, the redhead standing out a fair bit as he crossed into the room proper and moved to sit near Harry’s left, conjuring a simple chair so he could sit between the couch and the closest armchair. He leaned closer to Harry, expression concerned. “You alright, Harry?”

The teen gave the other a small smile. “I’m alright, magic travel always knocks me for six. Except brooms, brooms are great.”

Bill leaned back, clearly relieved. “My younger brother Charlie hates floo travel, always goes tumbling. Ron mentioned in one of his letters that you’re wicked on a broom, you’d have to be quite a natural to be given the Seeker position in your first year.”

“I do alright.” Harry responded with a bashful smile and a shrug. “You managed the trip alright though?”

“Yeah, I’ve travelled that way a couple of times on Gringotts business so I’ve gotten used to it a little” Bill told him before glancing away at the seated group as Sirius sank onto the couch beside Harry. “Think this is everyone.”

Turning his attention away from Bill to Sirius and then the others that had been seated around the room, either in the available chairs or on their own conjured chairs. The house-elves that had apparently stayed with him while the others had gone off to their assigned tasks had returned from wherever they had wandered after he had awoken and were serving tea and cakes to the circle of men and women that had set themselves up to form a semi-circle of sorts with him and Sirius in the center. He pondered for a moment, trying to figure out how to begin the very adult and important meeting they needed to have.

“Why don’t we start off with introductions so we’re all familiar with each other first, then we can dive in. Name, position and our specialities at present should cover it.” Harry decided, pushing himself to sit up a bit straighter. “So, we’ll go counter-clockwise, keep it simple. I’m Harry Potter, I’m the owner and ruler of Volstar and I’ve got a lot to learn still, but flying, charms, transfiguration and defense are my strongest skills or areas of focus right now. And I guess raw power, if we’re just listing raw strengths.”

Sirius gave an amused huff beside him. “It counts, given you nearly blinded us yesterday when we measured you.” The man stated before turning his attention to the others. “My name is Sirius Black, I’m Harry’s second until he decides he wants to replace me with someone else. I served as an auror for several years and I excel in transfiguration, defense and combat magics, and runes.”

Attention turned next to the older woman sitting in the first armchair after Sirius. She had brown hair going grey that had been cut as short as her jaw and brown eyes that were bordered by crows feet, though most of her face was unlined except for the deep laugh lines around her mouth. She was dressed in plain trousers with sturdy knee patches and a dark green long sleeve shirt and black jacket, obviously dressed for work rather than style. “G‘mornin’ all, I’m Margeret Hubbard, though friends call me Maggie, and I’m a herbologist by trade. My talents primarily lay in all things plant related and charms, though I’m a deft hand with a hex if needs be.”

“Name is Jack Payne, I’m a glazier and carpenter so I imagine I’ll be working on most if not all the buildings going up at least in part. I’m best at charms and transfiguration magic, though I also work with alchemy a fair bit.” The man sitting thick arms crossed next to Margeret told them. He had an accent that sounded like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be Irish or Welsh. He was shaved bald, though he had thick black brows over his dark brown eyes and he seemed half as broad across the shoulders as everyone else in the circle. He also sat tall enough, despite his slouched position that Harry was almost positive he would be at least six and a half feet when he stood up again.

“Mathew Bolder, stonemason. Charms, transfig and arithmancy.” Came and went the short introduction from the rather old looking man seated on the other side of Jack. His features were blocks and well weathered. His hair was a wispy white with quite a bald patch on top, likely usually covered with the battered old hat that sat balanced on one knee. Like both Jack and Margeret he was dressed very practically in greys and browns and not a robe in sight.

Accepting the brief introduction, attention shifted to the next person along, a man of middle years with long neatly tied back blond hair and neatly assembled but practical attire. He was rather pale and interestingly had two different coloured eyes. The left was green and the right was brown. The very first person Harry had met with such different eye colours. “Good morning everyone. I’m Frederick Graves. I hold a double mastery in potions and the healing arts and will be the acting healer for our settlers. I’m also well versed in herbology and thread magic, though I don’t often get time to practice the latter.”

Round the circle they went, from the humans that were all new to him, to the two goblins he had met the night before, Glimmertooth and Goldhammer, who were responsible for creating sustainable hunting trails and the construction of the goblin tunnels respectively. Both of whom had waited for him to wake before starting on their assigned tasks so they could plan around his preferred town ideas in the hopes that the end product would be as seamless as possible.

Lastly he had been reintroduced to Tilander - or Tilly - who had been picked out to represent the House-Elves bound to Harry since he apparently had seniority and had skills in building which would help guide the other elves to the tasks that were needed. Harry had originally been expected to pick one of them to be ‘Head Elf’, though he had admitted to not knowing what would be best and not wanting to accidentally pick someone that the others weren’t comfortable working with so they should decide amongst themselves and just let him know afterwards. He reckoned every one of the house-elves had looked at him like he was bonkers for a split second before they had turned to look at each other and had started whispering madly between themselves for nearly an hour, weighing the pros and cons of each of themselves and their skill sets and their levels of experience, both with their tasks and with interacting with other races.

Bill had taken a moment to reintroduce himself to everyone before they all settled back, nibbling on their biscuits and cakes, all eyes back on Harry.

“Right, I guess with that out of the way we should just jump into construction planning. I did have some ideas after looking at the map last night.” Harry told them, one of the lingering house-elves Poledra or Polly, jumping up to move the tea and snacks trays to smaller side tables that were quickly conjured while the tea table they had been sitting on was quickly enlarged for the huge map Glimmertooth produced to unroll across it. Leaning forward Harry gestured to the approximate spot on the map their camp was located. “So, this is our touchdown point here, we’ve actually got quite a large space around us if we build Skyfall a little more this way. There’s enough room that we could build the city in sectioned circles, seven of them probably with the seventh being farmland for food and animals since it would have the most space and the first circle being the city center where Gringotts, the government building, hospital and the like would be situated.”

He grabbed his sketchbook from where he had put it on the couch cushion beside him and flipped it back to the rough sketch he had done in charcoal of the circles and the sections they were broken down into. First as he had described it, keeping most of the official buildings in the center with a smattering of cafes or restaurants and a few shops here and there. Second and Third ring being primarily for shops and entertainment, while sections Four, Five and Six would be mostly residential with a few smatterings of inns, pubs and the like here and there for convenience.

“I want to incorporate as much art and greenery into it as we can to keep it bright and airy. Even with colourful storefronts Diagon Alley as an example feels very squished together, it always feels crowded, even if there’s not a lot of people out because everything is crammed together since there’s minimal space to work with.” Harry pointed out, flipping to the next page with his town center design, the large fountain in the very center, the benches placed around it and the plants spacing out the benches. Gringotts and the government building opposite each other sitting north and south on either side of the fountain with the hospital and another building sitting east and west of the fountain. Between each building was a road that went from the center out towards where the rest of the city would follow, each one with squiggles to represent either trees or planters for flowers or shrubbery dotting them at regular intervals. “We’ve got a massive amount of space we can use, so we don’t need the buildings to be squished together like that.”

They each had leaned closer in their seats, studying both the map and Harry’s rough sketches, nodding along as he spoke. Some of them had travelled a fair bit over the course of their lives and had gotten to see other cities, muggle and magical in other countries. They had seen several different styles of city planning. Muggles build in more blocky formations to make it easier on their vehicles to move from place to place and to help them literally block out sections, numbering them for easier referral later on. Magical folk didn’t have the same thoughts or requirements, so their settlements tended to be very free flowing and even whimsical in comparison. 

The fact that every magical person had the potential to tackle fires, floods and the like all on their own and could transport themselves rapidly from point to point without the need for clunky contraptions that filled the air with noxious fumes was also much to their benefit. It meant that buildings a suitable distance away from muggle spaces went much longer before their structures needed to be cleaned as no car or truck exhaust would cling to them and darken their paint prematurely. 

They could even balance the amount of light to avoid creating so much light pollution that they drowned out the ability for starlight to reach them.

Mr. Bolder reached into his brown jacket inner pocket and withdrew a sketchbook of his own that he resized to a much larger scale than the palm size little thing he had pulled out. He pulled out a stick of charcoal of his own and deftly set out turning Harry’s rough sketches and ideas into a more detailed plan, marking out distances and construction materials for the fountain and roads. “I assume since you want to step away from the look and feel of Diagon Alley, you’ll be wanting a more modern look for the city in general.”

The teen nodded, watching the older man improve on his sketches. “I was thinking a blend of modern and contemporary. It’s what I liked the look of...I thought it wouldn’t be too hard to blend with a bit of mediterranean since we’re almost smack dab in the middle of it. One of the House-Elves, Wizzi picked up a few magazines from a muggle news stand that were all about architecture, I’ll show you the things I liked and we can go from there, yeah?”

“That’s fine. Though I suggest if you’re wanting to stick to your idea of seven circles, I’d recommend you have seven main roads heading in and out of the city center. Keeping that symmetry and building with the number seven in mind, from an arithmagic stand point, it’ll lend power to the protections and different preservation spells and runes you weave through the city.” The old stonemason pointed out, rapidly sketching out what the revised plan would look like in comparison on another page then holding it out beside the first so Harry and the others could properly see and compare them.

“Seven and seven then. Should that carry over to the buildings as well, making a build limit of seven levels to a building?” Harry asked, absently reaching up to scratch at his forehead. “Would that help with warding them for security and against storms and the like, supposedly the storms here can get pretty intense.”

Bill shrugged. “From a warding perspective, it would be beneficial, it would add power like Mr. Bolder said and it would also keep things tidier from a land management perspective. It would help give a definitive space for the goblins to start building in. We go only so far down, they only go so far up.”

Goldhammer rumbled, giving a slight nod to the magical protections specialist for the consideration. “In our other settlements we had either built our tunnels long before other races had settled with us, or a fair while after humans or others had already started building their domiciles. It has meant that our own tunnels have had to deviate quite a lot from what we’d prefer in the case of the latter situation. In the former, it’s created unnecessary tension with our neighbours. If we can agree to spacial limits for our construction together, we’d both benefit.”

Harry leaned back in his chair to consider that, flicking his gaze across to Sirius who had apparently been watching him with a little smile on his face. “Thoughts? I imagine most homes and businesses won’t need more than a max of seven levels even if they only use a couple of them day to day. I don’t know how much room the government building would realistically need though, I think I remember Mr. Weasley mentioned that the Ministry where he works has quite a few floors all dedicated to different departments.”

“You’re not wrong, the only home owners that would use that much potential space would be the more wealthy residents and you’ll probably find that most of them would prefer to live outside the city proper in their own large estates. Even those usually spread out more than simply being built straight up and down.” Sirius told him with a shrug, having had visited many such estates in his childhood. “If you’re using the British Ministry as an example, it has ten levels all up, seven departments which are each responsible for overseeing a specific area of focus. For example floor number two which I worked on housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or the DMLE for short. On floor two they had the Auror offices, holding cells for people awaiting trial, the Wizengamot courtrooms and its administration offices, the office for misuse of muggle artefacts where Arthur Weasley works. It also had the offices for detection and confiscation of counterfeit protective spells and items, and the Improper Use of Magic office. The other floors and departments are set up similarly, leaving the last two floors as the foyer, cafeteria, storage, testing sites and the miscellaneous departments and offices that don’t quite fit on any of the other floors.”

The teen took that in and turned it over in his head. It didn’t do too badly as an example to work from and as he turned it over in his head little thoughts and ideas did pop into mind. “How about, four levels above, ten levels below for a total of fourteen. It keeps it close to the number seven but it should give us plenty of room as we flesh out the actual flesh and bones of the government, so we shouldn’t have to do any more building after it's done to try and add more space on. Would that be alright, or would it cut into the underground too much?” He asked, shifting his green eyes to Goldhammer.

“Easily acceptable, being just the one building that deep it will enable us to dig out around it without interfering with the symmetry of our own construction.” The goblin replied with a bob of his head.

Harry flipped his sketchbook to a fresh page and started making notes about the things they had decided on so far. As he wrote he flicked his eyes up to the blond man sitting across from him. “Mr. Graves, as our resident healer, do you think you could sit down with Mr. Bolder and Mr. Payne to plot out our Hospital?”

“That I can do. I’ve got a pavilion set up as our temporary hospital, the big green one. I’ll use some of my time this evening once I’ve finished setting it up the way I’d like to sketch out a rough plan based on what we’ve already discussed in terms of space limitations and find a moment to go over them, after dinner?” The blond said, adding the last to Bolder who nodded his acceptance.

The young wizard nodded at that, making a note to make sure he made time the following day to check up on the progress. There had originally been some thought of having a meeting like they were having now every day, though the more he thought about it, he couldn’t help but feel such frequent meetings would just get in the way. So far it sounded like everyone knew what they were doing, which was expected since the goblins had vetted them, maybe it would be better to take a step back and just get out of the way and let the people that had years of experience just do their thing? 

“Okay, it’ll probably take a couple of hours to run through the maths to work out just how big each section of the city will be, so we know how far out the farms and greenhouses should be built. Since once they’re down and established, they ideally shouldn’t be moved since that could outright kill some of the more delicate plants.” He said, casting a glance towards Madam Hubbard and got a nod and a smile in return. “We have enough resources to last several months on that front of heavy use, which should give us enough time to get our basics established. I’m going to assign a handful of the house-elves to help out and work in the Green Ring, which should help spread out the workload a bit.”

“Much appreciated, Lord Potter.” Madam Hubbard said with a little bow from her seat. “Once the greenhouses and farm plots are built and dug up, it should only take us a couple days, maybe a little more than a week to get everything that needs planting settled in and cared for.”

“Brilliant. That just leaves that animal situation and protections.” Harry said, looking to Glimmertooth who was in charge of the hunter-gatherers.

“The livestock that came with us has been penned off in temporary paddocks and I have scouts out now either sweeping the area around us or making their way to the nearby forests and mountains to check for tracks and vegetation. I’ll start getting reports back within a day or so.” The goblin huntress replied, giving him an easy shrug. “I’ll be drafting up a new list of encountered species and hunting trails as I get the information and checking it against the old report for the land. Though the original report was made a handful of centuries ago so I anticipate some changes in the native flora and fauna.”

Harry made a note of that and nodded as he stared down at the list. “Then that just leaves protections. Currently the island is shrouded and tied to the goblin nation’s magic, at noon Shaman Stoneshaker and I will be doing the rituals to tie the existing shrouding that keeps the island hidden from muggles to me, but ideally we’re going to need to set up proper grounding and wards. Sooner rather than later.” He added, relaying what had been told to him the previous day.

On the chair beside his couch Bill nodded, straightening from his comfortable slouch. “Right, even a very powerful wizard will start to feel the strain of supporting magical protections for a landmass this large very quickly if they’re working alone. Particularly with active building and other changes to the landscape. The recommendation is to build in a grounding stone, either in or below the center of the city we’ll be building since it will be the central point for all the energy fluctuations. If you can last a couple days, we can probably get something rough put together quickly…” He trailed off, giving Harry a look of concern.

“The shamans said I’d probably be able to hold the current stuff for a couple weeks, maybe a couple months if I’m careful with my magic usage, so that should be fine.” Harry replied easily before blinking and looking around at the looks he was receiving from the group.

Beside him Sirius sighed, a long world weary sound that almost sounded like a prayer for patience would if it were rendered down into a huff of breath. “Pup...maybe don’t rub how stupidly powerful you are in our mere mortal noses, please.”

“I’m sorry?” The teen asked, brows drawing in and head tilting just so in his confusion.

“Most people can hold a ward without grounding it for a few hours, that jumps to a couple days if they’re particularly powerful. They take a phenomenal amount of power to maintain, especially for an area as big as a country. Usually several covens would need to band together around a leader as the focus in order to provide enough power, especially for a landmass this big.” Bill rasped out, eyes wide as he watched the small boy king frown at everyone.

“You’re an absolute madlad of raw power, boyo.” Mr. Payne told him with a choked laugh. “No wonder the flippin’ Death Eaters ran scared into hiding.”

“Okay.” Sirius cut in, expression mostly amused but grey eyes just a bit darker than they had been before. “Protection is still a must but it’s not on the critical list yet. We can build that city center and then anchor it down there, so it’s straight into a permanent anchor, which if I remember my warding lessons will mean less chance for ripples to destabilize the whole thing.”

They all nodded at that, though most eyes were still locked onto Harry, scrutinizing him where he sat, blanket over his legs, hair sticking up every which way and fingers smudged with charcoal. It was something Harry knew he’d be getting a lot of for a while. He knew most of the people, barring Sirius and himself, had signed on and were ready to follow orders because they were being paid to do so. 

Now though, he got the feeling that a few of them, at least of the people sitting with him now might be reconsidering a few of their preconceptions. 

Not that Harry could blame anyone for having them. 

He knew he was very young for being a leader, especially of a whole country, even one that was currently in construction. He knew he would have a long way to go in order to earn the respect of the people that would be living there because of his age, though he knew he already had a leg up for already being famous as a powerful person. 

Even if the actual truth behind how that came to be was a little sketchy.

But wizards were a pretty sketchy bunch, so he wasn’t really too worried.

“Okay, those were the main topics I think, did anyone else have anything they needed to bring up?” Harry asked to get things back on track.

“Yeah,” Mr Bolder shot in, jerking a thumb at Sirius, “him.”

Beside him, Sirius made a gesture at him as if to say that the explanation was all on him then settled back to take a very noisy, very pointed sip of his tea.

Making a face at his godfather, Harry shook his head and shuffled a bit to get himself comfortable again. “Sirius is my godfather and was my dad’s best man when he married my mum, but he wasn’t their secret keeper when they went into hiding during the war. It was pointed out that everyone and their dog knew how close they were so everyone would assume it was Sirius and Death Eaters trying to get at my parents would target him trying to get the secret. Part misdirection, part trap, a prank on the Death Eaters. Except the person who ended up being the secret keeper instead of Sirius turned out to be a spy. He was an animagus with the form of a rat and he turned on my parents and their friends to save his own skin.” He told them, watching their expressions shift as they listened. 

“Peter Pettigrew didn’t die, he slipped away into the sewers then spent twelve years living as a rat to avoid detection with small periods as a human to solidify his own safety and keep people from doubting that Sirius was guilty. He got chased out of hiding last year when Sirius managed to escape Azkaban and hunted him down, though he managed to escape again. I and a few other witnesses reported the events to the Minister. As of leaving Britain, no announcements or investigations had been made regarding the new information.”

The group were shifting their attention between Harry and Sirius, expressions ranging between thoughtful and worried and something that wasn’t quite belief or disbelief. He couldn’t really blame them, they had spent the last decade and change believing something they had been told by what should have been a trustworthy source for order and progress. Any form of failure, real or perceived, tended to invoke a sense of disbelief from those that had trusted a system that had the single goal of keeping the innocent safe and removing the wicked so they could do no further harm. The fact that everyone that was remotely educated with the judicial system for wizarding Great Britain knew the end punishment for wrong doers were creatures of literal nightmares that may either accidentally or on purpose consume a persons soul, made the entire possibility of an innocent person being sent into that nightmare horrific on a scale most shied away from. 

The magical world had, after all, many means of assuring guilt that muggles did not. 

Means that would ensure only those who had actually broken the law would be punished.

“I spent more than a decade locked in Azkaban for crimes I didn’t commit. The anti-Death Eater mania towards the end of the war got so fierce that several people were sentenced to either Azkaban or the Dementors Kiss with a trial that at best could be called a farce. People were tried in groups, in absentia, without the ability to present evidence in their own defence. No questioning under Veritaserum, no reviewing memories of events in pensieve, no ability to call witnesses to speak in defense. Not even the use of a solicitor to ensure a proper trial.” Sirius told them quietly, teacup set aside and arms moving to cross over his chest. “The fear and anger was understandable but completely inexcusable, especially in a court of law. The Queen’s Law and the Laws of the Ministry, the ICW and the Council of Magic before them were set out for a reason. Ignoring them and then covering up that fact are by definition punishable crimes and a miscarriage of justice that would have our forefathers rolling in their graves.”

“That’s...if that’s true, why would the Minister allow that to keep on. Surely a good man would at least try to set things to rights.” Madam Hubbard asked, her weathered features set to a mishmash of confusion and horrified disbelief.

Harry gave her a small smile. “That’s the thing. To quote one of my best friends who’s thinking of going into ministry to try and make a difference, ‘As an elected official, the Minister of Magic doesn’t need to be a good man, just a popular one’ and that’s true. As long as he or she seems likeable and gives the voters the impression that they’re tackling the problems that pop up and actively seem like they’re working to make things better, they get voted in and they keep power. They can use that power to make themselves look good, can take bribes to do things other people of means and influence want to make their own lives comfortable, can villainize anyone that speaks out against them. As long as they look good and the voters don’t notice the giant fires going on all over the place.”

Beside him Sirius gave a soft snort of amusement at the mental image his words invoked and relaxed a little.

“Either way, that’s back in Britain. We’ve got the chance to build something better, to learn from their mistakes and flaws and hopefully make something we can be proud of.” Harry added, shifting his green eyes to settle on each of them one after another. “I’m not going to ask you to trust him, or anyone else for that matter. The way I see it, trust is a gift you give to someone when you think they deserve it. I _hope_ that eventually we can all get to the point that we all trust each other to at least get our jobs done and to take care of what we’re making here, but I know that’s something that’ll either happen or not over time. As long as we’re willing to give each other a chance to prove ourselves worthy of that gift.”

Off to the right Mr. Bolder huffed and shifted in his seat, leaning forward to snatch up a dainty little fruit covered cake, which was easily dwarfed by his large work calloused hands. “Just as well you’ll be our King then, your speeches are too pretty to be a farmhand.” He proclaimed, expression stony but eyes twinkling in amusement as he popped the tiny cake in his mouth.

A soft titter went through the group at that, the atmosphere which had become rather tense relaxing quite a lot in the wake of the light-hearted comment. Harry glanced from each of them to Sirius and back again, offering them a smile. “Well, I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m more familiar with that than giving speeches, I’ve spent almost all my life doing chores. Supposedly that’s something I’ll get used to, but for now I’ll stick to making sure we have food planted and roofs over our heads.”

“Not a bad start, as far as they go. What else do you have planned?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think?  
> The official planning and building has begun and Harrykins is definitely striving to be different, to do differently than he has experienced.  
> I've got all these little headcannons and ideas for what Skyfall will be like functionally, I can't wait 'till i get to the points where I can share them with you guys.  
> Anyway, thank you again to everyone that's been feeding me Kudos and leaving me comments with their thoughts, opinions and questions, they really do help keep me focused when everything else tries to get in the way.


	6. Swimming with the fishes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's day two of the expedition and Harry find himself thinking over the progress they've already made and enjoying his first foray of Volstar's tantalizing regions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later in the day than my usual post time, but still on schedule.  
> Thank you to all the lovelies who have been taking the time to leave me their thoughts in the comments, the feedback has been greatly appreciated.
> 
> Please enjoy.

#### August 5th 1994 - The Fountain, Skyfall, Volstar

Harry carefully flipped the page of his charms book, awkwardly balancing his wand in one hand, his lunch in the other, and the book he had perched on his thighs. It was a little after noon and everyone was taking their afternoon break spread out around the settlement. Most of the humans had decided to emulate him, taking a seat on or beside the large fountain that had been constructed the day before in what would be the very center of Skyfall. The first half of the previous day had Harry hunched over sketches making plans with Mr. Payne and Mr. Bolder about the roads, the major buildings, the residences and more. He’d ended up with quite a headache.

But, after that, things got really interesting.

He had watched from the side while Mr. Bolder and his apprentices - who Harry learned were also his grandsons - had used charms to mark out glowing borders that had been carefully planned out and measured with arithmancy via geometry and he had no idea what else. Borders done, they had rapidly set out digging out the circle for the town center and its seven main roads, getting it all done in an hour and change. 

It was a little mind boggling just how much magic could speed up construction, especially when he knew it often took muggles _days_ to just repair a road that had a few potholes. 

When the way was clear of dirt they had carefully compacted down the bottom of the deep and wide spaces they had dug out and then when they seemed sure it was done to satisfaction they had filled it with a thick layer of sand which they compacted down just like the dirt it sat on. On top of the compacted sand had gone hunks of stone that was broken off in all sorts of sizes mixed in with cement, it had been leveled out and dried with magic before a layer of gravel rich cement was poured over the top of that which was given the same leveling and drying treatment as the previous layer. 

Finally large smooth stone pavers were settled over the top of the many layers and sealed loosely with a sand and gravel mixture that would give the pavers a little room to move if needed but would otherwise help hold them in place. Each of the pavers, Harry had been told, had runes carefully etched into their backs that would help preserve their structural integrity and would help keep them clean, automatically vanishing droppings and deadfall that would build up and degrade the stones.

Aside from the magic parts, the roads and city center were built in the same way the roads of the ancient Roman empire had been. _Built to last_ , Mr. Bolder had told Harry when he had suggested them. It would mean much less maintenance in the long run even if it took them longer to build them to start with. Although, Harry was almost sure the old somewhat gruff man was pulling his leg. The entire thing, city center to the furthest edge of the seventh ring, the Green Ring, had taken a little over six hours to complete.

Honestly, Harry didn’t know whether to dance and sing or just find a corner somewhere to stare into and rock back and forth. Magic was **mental**.

They’d had a shared dinner after it was done, the goblins who had an eye for construction themselves, had applauded the work and they had gone back and forth trading stories of past projects and ideas for future ones while they ate. The teen had showered everyone with happy grins, pleased to see everyone getting along so far, even if it was only the first day.

After dinner Harry, Sirius and Mr. Bolder had hunkered down to flesh out the plan for the fountain and its charms. Seven tiers - because at this point he figured, why not? - that each peacefully splashed down into the one beneath it until the large bottom tier. It was etched, very sneakily in spots that wouldn’t be readily visible to the casual observer, with runes that would keep it perpetually clean and fresh, keep it filling itself from the top without overflowing, would purge harmful pollutants and spells that hit it, and would also maintain the same cool-but-not-cold temperature year round. Mr. Bolder had given Sirius a gruff nod of approval after he’d finished double checking the runes, which of course made Sirius turn and waggle his eyebrows at Harry and strut around for the rest of the night like a peacock.

So the fountain was merrily flowing, providing a very soothing backdrop and access to clean water both for the people and the creatures of the city, with plans of replicating it on a much smaller scale for the animal paddocks in the Green Ring since it was a step up from the traditional setup. This morning a handful of tin cups could be found around the fountain, charmed by Healer Graves to remain sterile so anyone and everyone could come along and use them to have a drink from the fountain without the worry of bacteria or passing illnesses.

Harry could admit he was a little stuck on his fountain, more so than the roads. Because even though the roads were very impressive from a construction standpoint, they were, for Harry at least, just a thing. Something that boggled his mind just a bit - or a lot - but still just a thing. The fountain was his fountain, he had dreamed it up, sketched it up and had pushed a little when some others had wondered why not build a statue or plant a tree or something else. But it got built just the way he had wanted it, engraved with runes so it was even better than his base idea. It got built and he loved it and he wasn’t the only one. He had overheard several members of the team saying that it had been a good choice, that it was a bit different from what they were used to but not strange. That it was peaceful and practical.

Harry was so proud of it, even after Sirius had given him a little good natured teasing at how proud he had seemed about his first baby.

The rest of his night had seen him going over books with his godfather, the two of them determined to use the quiet hours to continue learning. The reading had continued in the morning over breakfast before being set aside for a while so they could get more work done. In front of him the building that would be Gringotts stately pristine white Volstar main branch was being constructed, large heavy stones being layered carefully atop one another as they buildings external walls rapidly took shape, a little slower than the fountain pieces had come together since each and every piece of stone was charmed and had runes engraved that would see it both stand the test of time and turn the building into a veritable fortress. The same treatment which was being given to the Ministry building behind him and the Hospital that was being constructed at the same time on the left. They already had plans to give the schools, orphanage and inns the same treatment when it came time to build them. The harbor at the south of the island would be getting the same treatment since it needed to be protected from constant use and from whatever storms ended up buffering it.

There had been some consideration back and forth before he and Sirius had called it a night and retreated to separate bedrooms the night before. After all, not all countries had a Ministry of Magic and since Harry was going to be a King and Volstar a Kingdom there were other options available. Especially since there was no muggle presence that necessitated the separation between muggle and magic governments, like in Britain where Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second who was aware of and held supreme power over both sections of the populous but allowed the day to day to be handled by the Ministry of Magic for Wizarding Great Britain and the Parliament and its many faces. Receiving reports on the events and decisions reached but rarely directly involving herself outside of the odd letter to the Prime Minister or the Minister for Magic if She had thoughts or concerns. 

The benefits of creating a government from scratch - or close to it - meant that Harry could be as involved or absent as he wanted to be in everything that happened from planning and revising laws to overseeing a court of law. It had been a very long talk and lesson into politics that he would have apparently had to learn if his parents had survived the first war, on account of being the Heir to an Ancient House. It was a lot to digest, he rather wished that he had more time to really stroll through his law and politics books.

But progress was rapidly being made, much faster than he had anticipated. Though he was sure he could be forgiven since he obviously hadn’t had much chance to watch a magical city be constructed. No witch or wizard currently living actually had. Not for centuries at least, so they were all flying by the seat of their pants, coming together with their different fields of knowledge and experience to make it happen and keep it as fair and balanced as possible.

He could have done without the booster potion he’d had to take before lunch though. Healer Graves was rapidly moving around the settlement handing them out and marking off who took what in a bid to make sure they all stayed healthy. Hence why they had opted to break for lunch when they did. The care had been appreciated, truly, but it had taken the entirety of his first sandwich and half of his juice before the noxious flavour had left his mouth. From the looks on several of the other faces around him, he hadn’t been alone in that.

Madam Hubbard had been pleased as punch that morning, while Mr. Bolder’s apprentices had been out scouting the Skyfall city area as a whole to make sure there weren’t any construction hazards like shallow caverns beneath the earth that could turn into sinkholes if built upon, the Madam and her fellow greensmen had gone out flying on their own brooms to check the viability of the proposed Green Ring area. 

She had reported back that aside from a few spots here and there that would require some work to shift the soil acidity, the area was ripe for planting and would quite easily support most of their staple crops. Something she said had to do with the volcanos that were spread out about the island. She also happily noted that there was so much room that they would be able to build the numerous greenhouses that would be required for some of the other plants that had different, and in some cases very picky, requirements for their growth. She had reported to Harry that her fellow - who would be in charge of overseeing the different livestock they had brought with them - and she had divided the ring into quarters, each of them taking two quarters, one for magical plants or animals and one for mundane with the knowledge that they would each be better able to supply the other with something the other needed. 

Madam Hubbard would have a few fields that were dedicated to feed for the herbivore creatures, and her counterpart Mr. Singh would render down the manure the creatures produced into compost where possible so it could nourish the fields. 

They also had plenty of space for an additional even larger ring beyond the seventh if the city grew large enough that additional farms might be required.

Given the sheer amount of land the Green Ring took up, Harry couldn’t really fathom them needing even _more_ space, but he was running on the opinion that it would be better to have the possibility for more there and just not ever end up using, rather than finding that they actually did need it at some point down the track and finding that they just didn’t have the space. Although, Madam Hubbard had explained that if in need, it was theoretically possible to have farms built one on top of each other while using magic to make sure the plants still received as much light as they needed. She had explained a bit of it to Harry but for the most point it had gone right over his head. 

He had bashfully and rather sheepishly admitted as much to her and the older woman had huffed a laugh, thanked him for his honesty and told him she would explain again if the time ever came that she thought they may have to do something like that. She didn’t think so though, so Harry was content with the joyful enthusiasm she had had as she sat down for a bit after giving him her report.

Bill had been hard at work already, up at dawn just like Harry had been, at work carving in the protective runes to the building stones in rapid succession along with a couple other humans and three goblins in a bid to keep up with all the construction. They had chatted a little over breakfast which was served out around the fountain by the elves, but mostly they were focused on their own tasks.

Sirius on the other hand was fast asleep with the help of a mid-strength sleeping tonic that would allow him to wake at dinner time so he and Harry could have a meal together. The current plan was for them to sleep in shifts so that at all hours one of them would be awake and able to field problems, though mostly the problems they had planned their sleeping schedules around was an attack of some sort since the two of them were the most competent and powerful combatants of the humans and even with the goblin warriors that worked in patrols around the fledgling city they both thought it was a good idea for at least one of them to be available. Even if it was only to receive reports when patrol shifts changed. 

So they would have breakfast together at dawn before Sirius went to bed for the day. Harry would float around the city, overseeing things, planning things and whatever else was needed, then he’d wake Sirius and they would share their dinner after dusk and do a bit of study together before Harry retired for the night and Sirius took up his post.

It seemed like it would serve them well going forward since they both conceded that anything that could go wrong usually did, at least to them. So being as prepared as possible had sounded like a marvelous idea. Also having time set aside for them to actually spend together and get to know each other better was also a huge plus to both of them.

For Harry’s own part he’d spent a couple hours that morning sitting with the House-elves that weren’t off with their assigned buddy. They had talked for a while about using some of the bolts of fabric they had brought with them to make uniforms to wear. The suggestion quite possibly hadn’t been phrased quite right and Harry may - or definitely did - have to calm down the frantically worried elves and assure them that he wasn’t sacking them. Once that point had been well made and understood he had explained that work uniforms as he knew them and had in return been told about House livery, a uniform that was specific to a noble House which would make the elves tied to that noble house recognisable on sight to anyone they needed to speak to on their masters behest. He had also been told that though it was a subject of great pride to be permitted the use of livery, that very few houses did it anymore, even if they could have. 

Harry had immediately flashed on the Malfoys who he knew were a noble family with ties to aristocracy but had made Dobby dress in a ragged, stained old pillowcase.

So he had sat there, surrounded by elves and had sketched out a very smart suit complete with a waistcoat and had doodled his own House crest on the left side of the chest for the male elves. He’d added socks and little oxfords to it. For the girl elves, upon the insistence of a few of the elves that were apparently good at tailoring, had drawn up a skirt that went down just past the knees with shirt waistcoat and blazer of their own, frilly socks and strappy shoes just like the ones some of the girls had worn as part of their Hogwarts uniform. Just like the other uniform his crest was doodled onto the left side of the chest. 

He’d asked a bit tentatively if the girl even wanted to wear skirts, since he knew not all girls liked wearing dresses. Ginny didn’t, he’d overheard her and Hermione and a few of the other Gryffindor girls talking - complaining loudly - about it in the common room. Things like sexism, heteronormative stereotypes and forced gender assignment had been tossed around in annoyed hisses. Most of it had gone over Harry’s head, he didn’t have the most social of upbringings and certainly nothing that could or should be considered normal, regardless what the Dursleys liked to think and say. 

But he’d also spent too long wearing clothes that weren’t his, clothes that didn’t fit him in more ways than one to begrudge anyone else finding what fit them. 

Seemed a little pointless and mean to him, a bit too much like bullying, even though he could understand most of it wasn’t meant that way.

Ron had given him a look over the chess set they had been hunched over, something both wry and amused, and asked him how long he thought it would be before they remembered they were witches and no wizard that valued his bollocks told a witch what to do.

The elves for their part however had happily explained a bit about House-elf culture and biology. He now knew that only female house-elves grew hair, hair that would find itself dotted with pretty ribbons and beads that had been gifted from the male elf that was courting her. They were tokens of affection that would be worn and displayed with pride for all to see and were a tacit and noticeable expression of belonging. In exchange as they bonded with their male partner, the female elf would tattoo her accepted partner with natural dye pigments she would grind up herself. Intricate patterns that would weave together things like nature and family and home. It was a process Harry had been told rather quietly that had been banned by the wizard masters who thought it was messy and didn’t like their elves to go about with anything that proclaimed them to belong to someone else, even if it was another elf.

The teen with his own wild hair and an ache inside him for belonging that was eased by his few friends and the vestiges of family he had left, had told the group of house-elves that had been sitting around him in a haphazard circle that he thought the practice was brilliant and that he was going to make sure no one on Volstar could interfere with a person's cultural displays, provided of course that those displays didn’t cause actual harm to themselves or others. 

There had been a lot of hugging after that. 

When he had left them to move onto the next group he needed to check in on they were already hard at work making their uniforms and had made plans to travel with him to the coast to scout out a possible spot for their port after lunch and to investigate the ocean life around the island. The goblins were handling scouting and hunting for meat on land, just maybe the elves would be interested in doing some fishing, if the marine life was abundant enough to support it. He didn’t want to risk destroying the island's ecosystem if he could avoid it. But if it were another viable source of food for them then it would provide more tasks for the house-elves, who he now knew thrived best when they were busy and active.

Already he could feel multiple sets of large, wide eyes watching him from little hiding places spread out here and there, waiting no doubt for him to swallow the last bit of his sandwich and dust the crumbs from around his mouth. It made him smile. Everyone was so happy, so buoyant even while they worked with the knowledge that what they were doing was A Massive Thing, the overall feeling of excitement hadn’t faded after the first planning meeting like he had expected. Quite the opposite in fact. Even the somewhat gruff Mr. Bolder had a noticeable spring in his step as he moved about his work sites. Each milestone, no matter how small, seemed to bolster the overall feeling of purpose and achievement. 

Which of course only served to bolster Harry’s own sense of excitement to the point he found he was almost always smiling. Even when he was reading! He was positively giddy with it.

So when he had finished his lunch and dusted himself off, he slipped his holly wand back in its holster on his left arm, checked his ebony wand in its holster on his right arm with a quick mental note to himself to start practicing with it so he could get used to the feel of it. 

He marked his place in the charms book he had been studying with photo he had decided to use as a bookmark. It was one of the very few photos he had brought with him which consisted of Ron, Hermione and himself dressed in school robes, nudging each other and giggling at the camera, happily taken early into his Third year at Hogwarts by Colin Creevy who had started taking photos of students in exchange for a couple of Knuts so he could improve his photography. Something that had proved to be a happy success among the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and a few of the Ravenclaws. The Slytherins hadn’t gotten in on it as far as he knew, likely because most of the Slytherin familys apparently had old traditions of family photos and portraits that were done at specific times by ‘reputable professionals’.

The moment his book was tucked back safe into his bag the space in front of him was filled with a handful of very eager house-elves, already dressed in their House Potter livery and all but bouncing on the spot.

Harry grinned down at them, just as eager. “Ready to go then?” He asked cheerfully.

“Ready, Master Potter!” Came the almost unison reply and one of them, Paullie if Harry remembered correctly held out a small hand for Harry to take hold of.

“Alright, the goblins suggested starting in the south-west, so we’ll pop down there and check out the coastline.” He told them, getting quick nods before they each started to wink away. Much like his attempts to travel via floo or side-along apparation the moment they landed at their destination Harry lost his balance and tumbled over causing the house-elves to squawk in alarm. “I’m fine, I’m okay.” He quickly assured them, more than a little warmed by their concern for his welfare.

It took him a slightly embarrassing amount of time for his mind to go from ‘safe landing’ to realising the reason for the soft landing was the somewhat gritty white sand he had fallen over in. From there his green eyes swept out, widening as he took in the view. Soft white sand, sparkling bright blue water, fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by and the sharp scent of the ocean grabbed at his senses and for a long moment Harry found himself speechless. It was beautiful, the kind of view he’d only seen on the cover of travel magazines, glimmering and untouched by humans. He’d only seen the sea once, when Vernon had dragged everyone away to the furthest place he could conveniently get to, but that had been sharp rocks and overcast skies, damp and miserable, and as inhospitable as a place by the sea could be and still be called liveable. Technically.

This was nothing like that, not even a little bit. The sand was hot underneath him, warmed by the strong summer sun, the waves peaceful and the skies calm. The water even looked clear enough for him to see fish and plantlife fluttering about under the surface if he took out his broom and did a lazy flight over it.

Rather immediately Harry decided it would be a shame to put a building there with a bunch of boats all tied up, he was absolutely certain that it would ruin the view. Picking himself up off the hot sand, Harry brushed himself down as best he could and took a few steps toward the waters edge only to stop and look down at himself. He’d dressed that morning with the intention of moving about Skyfall helping here and there followed by bouts of studying, he wasn’t quite dressed for a trip to the beach, which in hindsight he probably should have since he had known that morning what he had wanted to do. The plain white t-shirt he was wearing had been a concession to the heat since the temperature the previous day had broken past 30 degrees celsius. 

Something that had been a bit of a shock to the system for all of them, which was part of the reason why they had left before dawn so their bodies could slowly adjust to the increasing heat. 

His trousers though dark in colour were linen and relatively breathable, but the shoes and socks he had put on really weren’t. A better idea for walking around construction zones, but terrible for sand. So, with that in mind he quickly stripped off his shoes and socks, dancing about a bit in the hot sand as he quickly crammed them into his back and deftly rolled up the hem of his trousers before setting off, followed and surrounded by his small group of elves.

Weaving his way across the hot sand to the waters edge he marveled at how even the wet sand was quite warm, cooler than the dry sand, but still quite warm. The water that washed over his feet and ankles with the motion of the waves was cooler too, but not as cold as he had expected it to be. He found himself rather pleased with his first proper beach and kicked about a little at the shallow waves while his elf companions giggled around him, a couple joining him in playing about along the shore as they walked the beach, moving westerly. They pointed out to each other the different shrubbery and the odd tree they could see on the other side of the wide sand beach, the different shells they spotted and made guesses about the kinds of creatures that might make them a home. 

Eventually though, Harry grew tired of walking, sweaty from the days heat and away from the comfort of the cooling charms that had been thrown up temporarily around the fountain so after a brief debate, he stripped down to his boxers, shoved his shirt and pants into his bag and handed it off to one of the elves for safekeeping before he and three other elves walked out into the relatively calm and warm waters, spells being cast left and right so they’d be able to breath and move about safely while they swam.

It was wonderful.

Out they went playing about and allowing a gentle current to pull them out further, secure with their bubble shrouded heads and their flipper feet, it didn’t take long for them to stumble onto something that stole away Harry’s words all over again and likely the reason the goblins had suggested he explore this particular stretch of coast first. There before them, brightly lit from the sun's rays and in gloriously vivid colour was the edge of a coral reef. Immediately Harry gestured towards it, looking left and right at his house-elf companions who had magiced themselves back into their old pillowcase smocks for the swim, sharing excited grins with each before pushing forward towards the rocky outcropping and the bright coral that had grown on it. 

Reds, oranges, yellows, purples and greens. A rainbow of colour stretched out as far as his eyes could see. He could see fish lazily swimming about amongst all the strangely shaped corals and sponges, the kinds he had never seen outside of a textbook, some of them he hadn’t even seen there. Harry had even spotted a turtle! It was absolutely spectacular and he couldn’t wait to share it with Sirius. 

Eventually though the sunlight started to get closer and closer to setting and finding himself tired from all the excitement and activity, Harry readily agreed to return to shore when one of the elves gestured toward it, coming up out of the water and taking deep breaths of salty ocean air as he and the elves trudged up into the sand where the last two elves who had elected to remain on shore in case of emergency had apparently been keeping pace with them along the surface, waving and bouncing in the sand. They lingered in the sand long enough to let the sun dry them, and long enough for Harry to realise that he had managed to scratch his leg on something without realising it until the hot sand had gotten into the scratches. 

The moment the elves had realised he had been ‘injured’ there had been a flurry of activity as they all jumped up and started popping away and Harry found himself first stumbling into the neatly trimmed landing zone before the world winked away again and he was falling to his hands and knees in the middle of a massive tent with vivid green walls and smooth pale wood floors that he immediately recognised as their medi-tent.

There was an excited buzz of conversation that didn’t quite register thanks to the horrific tunnel vision he was desperately trying to fight back thanks to doing multiple jumps in rapid succession. 

The fact that his stomach seemed to want to push itself up his throat and out his mouth also wasn’t helping. 

A bucket was shoved under his face just in time to catch his sick, although thankful lunch had been hours ago and all that came up was bile. Still gross though. 

Worse than nothing, better than slugs. 

Which was still a front runner for Most Gross Thing he had experienced since coming to the magical world, even if it had happened to Ron and not Harry himself.

He felt slightly cool hands take hold of him, grabbing his arm and wrapping around his waist to help him climb to his feet and steer him to one of the medi-beds that lined one wall near the door for ease of access and allowed himself to be pushed down onto it without a fuss. He felt warm tingles of magic sweep over him and the acrid taste in his mouth was replaced with him in rapid succession before the lip of a potion phial made contact with his bottom lip and he obediently opened his mouth and swallowed the potion that was poured in, something that tasted strongly of ginger and something herbal.

A few moments later his stomach settled and his vision cleared enough for him to see Healer Graves standing beside his bed reading over a sheet of parchment. Noticing that attention had settled on him the healer gave Harry a little smile to calm him. “I have to say, I really wasn’t expecting anyone to need my services quite this soon.” He told Harry playfully, conjuring a stool so he could sit down beside the teen. “The scratch on your leg is fine, slightly irritated by salt water and sand, but there’s no sign of harmful toxins, poisons, dangerous bacteria or other nasties. I’ve cleaned it up and popped a plaster on, it’s better to let your body heal small things like this so your immune system can keep doing its job and acclimatise to the bacteria of our new environment. Though I did find something else in my scan that was quite interesting, aside from the slightly low mineral levels we’ll be working on.”

Cocking his head to one side, Harry pushed himself up a little to regard the Healer with a confused frown. “What is it?” He asked, aside from the obvious he had felt just fine, all his bits and bobs had been working like normal as far as he could tell.

“Were you aware that you’ve been walking around with a tumor?”

Harry blinked. “A what?”

“A tumor, a small one that’s registering to my diagnostic spells as benign. Have you noticed problems with balance and dizziness at all?” The blond asked, lifting his wand and conjuring up an illusion in the air above them of an ear and all the bits that sat between it and the brain. “It’s quite small, but it’s located just here in the inner ear which serves a couple of purposes but one of the primary ones is to maintain balance by detecting our position and motion. It’s a very delicate part of the body and is quite easily upset. In this instance, the unusual growth of the tumor is adding extra pressure into the space and distorting the vibrations it uses to do its job.”

Harry frowned at that. “Is that why I keep getting dizzy and falling over whenever I travel by floor or apparation?”

“Very likely, yes. Some discomfort and vertigo is normal if you’re not accustomed to the sensations that come with the most common forms of rapid transit we wizards use, but eventually the body does learn to adjust automatically. It’s actually a bit of a marvel that you apparently do so well on a broom, especially given the kinds of movement that comes with being a Seeker. I’d hazard that the adrenaline has been doing more than its share in keeping you from noticing anything but the worst of the dizziness and given some of the stunts quidditch players pull, I imagine it’s relatively easy for the dizziness you do notice to be shrugged off as a result of whatever move you’d just pulled off.” Healer Graves reasoned, though by expression on his face made Harry think he was maybe trying to work out why people kept playing if what they were doing made them feel dizzy.

Which really, just told Harry that his new Healer had never really played a great game of quidditch. He rather thought it spoke for itself.

“Can we get rid of it?” He asked the older man, feeling his features settle into a thoughtful frown. “I know muggles use a combination of things to treat or get rid of things like this, though I don’t really know anyone who has.”

“Easily manageable, you’ll be grounded for a couple weeks and banned from all forms of magical travel, but the combination treatment of potion and spell will be able to get rid of the growth, then it's just a matter of finding your balance.” The man replied, letting his illusion fade into smoke and waving at the air to disperse it. He got to his feet and moved over to a tall and wide row of shelves and reached into it, arm disappearing almost to the shoulder, far deeper than the shelves - which were a foot deep at most - would normally allow and pulled back, potion bottle in hand. “Now, it’ll be better to do it now while you’ve already got the anti-nausea potion working for you because you’re going to experience some pretty terrible vertigo I’m afraid. I’ll be here monitoring you closely as will your new friend Mr.Bucket, just in case. I’m going to keep you here on bed rest overnight and probably for a bit of the morning just to be sure you don’t experience any negative reactions from the treatment and so I can help you through your first few steps.”

Despite himself Harry found himself swallowing down a spike of panic. The other man gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled down at him while he floated the cleaned bucket up onto Harry’s lap. “Ah, someone should probably tell Sirius, he’s going to be getting up in about an hour or so I think.” Harry pointed out, letting the healer direct his body into a partially reclined position after he’d obediently taken the potion, which tasted nowhere near as pleasant as the first one had.

“Not a problem, Harry. Just sit back, try to relax and take some nice calm breaths, everything will be fine.”

Briefly Harry wondered, as he listened to the other man start to chant his incantation, if he should take a moment to let him know that something always went horribly wrong for him whenever someone said that.

Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEA TURTLES! Ahaha, while I was researching for possible locations for the island I found out that there's a small coral reef just off Sicily, which is one of Volstar's neighbours (along with Malta livin' on the west side) and I couldn't help but think how awesome that would be for Harry to experience and you know, for tourism since who doesn't love crystal clear waters and glorious underwater colours?
> 
> As a couple readers wonderfully guessed there are some volcanoes on and around the island, much like they're dotted around Italy and Greece and several other spots in the area, which has done wonders for soil fertility (along side the lack of humans fucking it up) and a few other things that you guys will get to explore as Harry does. So we're two days into construction and we've got Roman styled roads, a glorious fountain and the beginnings of Gringotts, Ministry, Hospital and a central tavern/inn. Soil has been tested as has ground integrity and the hype remains high. Summer is in full swing on their (so far) happy Mediterranean island so lots of sun and tans are on the way.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter in the comments, there was quite a bit less dialogue in this one than the last, but I needed more stage building than chatter for this one. So I hope that still works out to comfortable/interesting reading.


	7. Some Sirius Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is stuck on bed rest so Sirius and he brainstorm a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back lovelies to Chapter 07 of A Place Apart, or, Harry Nopes Out to Be King of The Island. I appreciate the many wonderful comments I got for the last chapter (I got my very first non-English comment and I was super happy/bouncy for hours afterwards. Hola Dora!) It was nice to see the reactions to my little headcannon about the cause of Harry’s balance issues, both the intrigue and the worry for Harry, all the positive feedback has been very touching, so thank you/gracias everyone!
> 
> Now on with the chapter!

#### August 6th 1994 - The Medi-tent, Skyfall, Volstar

It was well after midnight but hours before even the first rays of dawn and Sirius Black was sitting propped up beside his godson's hospital bed, alternating between reading and watching the teen sleep. It had taken quite a while for Harry to finally slip into sleep, post ‘operation’ even the slightest of movements had left him reeling, disorientated and sickened. He hadn’t managed to keep down dinner or the ginger tea that had been brewed for him and Sirius had admittedly been a little beside himself trying to figure out what he could do to help.

The answer turned out to be ‘not very much’, which didn’t particularly sit well with him. But he had checked in with Harry, gone out to check in with the team leaders who were calling an end to the days’ work and listened to progress report on top of progress report while they ate. He’d made sure everyone had settled in with their evening meal and that no one was injured before letting the night watch know where they could find him in the event of an emergency and heading back into the medi-tent to sit beside Harry and very quietly discuss the day with him.

He heard about Harry’s morning meetings with the team leaders, the house-elf uniforms - which he had to admit did look rather dapper, especially in comparison to the standard pillowcase or teatowel - and the bits of house-elf culture the teen had learnt that Sirius himself hadn’t known about. Not that he was particularly surprised about that given his darling mother's views on anything that wasn’t a ‘pureblood’ witch or wizard, and even most of those. Many opinions had the late and largely unlamented Walburga Black and the world was well rid of her Sirius thought.

But Harry chatted quietly, doing his best to both not move and breathe deeply even while the thick gauze that was held against his ear was changed, taking the black red ooze that had begun seeping from it post spell away to be replaced by a fresh gauze. He had panicked at the sight at first, Sirius arriving just in time to see the teen start heaving, lose consciousness and nearly take a nose dive off the bed. Sirius had nearly blasted Graves across the room before he got clued into what was going on.

It was a good thing the Healer was apparently such a fast talker. 

He had gotten the gist out quickly enough and waited for Sirius to check on Harry himself for curses or hexes or anything else unsavory before allowing himself to be grilled by the animagus. Tumors and other unusual growths were exceptionally rare in the magical world. A person's magic did a great deal to normalise their bodies wellbeing, it would work to fix deficiencies and over-activity both, smoothing everything into a perfect medium that would connect the physical with the immaterial forces of the universe. 

Usually.

Sometimes though if the magics native to a body spent too long focused on smoothing out one problem or another - like systematic daily abuse - then that imbalance could allow for all sorts of little problems that would normally not be a concern, to occur. It was the same thing that made a prolonged sentence in Azkaban so utterly horrific. 

A person’s own well of power, a native defence that should always bolster a witch or wizard could ultimately be turned against them working overtime to heal the damage of sleep deprivation, starvation, dehydration, dementor exposure and diseases and illnesses brought on by poor hygiene that would keep their magic in a vicious spiral of activity that it would allow more horrors to slip through the cracks. So much so that in the end inmates would be longing for the escape of death years before their natural time if it meant an end to the suffering they experienced. Something that would not come because their own magic, frantically at work would keep them alive and in agony and despair until either their sentence was complete and their broken shell was removed from Azkaban’s walls or they managed to die of old age.

Because deaths inside Azkaban were rarer than roses, a fact Sirius remembered all too well. A magical human’s natural lifespan being what it was. Screams of rage and jubilation had celebrated for long hours after word got around that one of his fellow inmates had escaped into death. Each of them offering what little farewells they could for a fallen comrade who had suffered alongside them.

Shaking himself abruptly, Sirius shook off the memories and the chill they brought with them, steering his mind back on track. The Healer had sat with him for a bit, explaining that the abuse and neglect Harry had gone on long enough to allow the tumor to grow. It had been a lucky thing that Harry had been so monstrously over-powered even as a small child that his magic pool was deep enough and robust enough to both manage the ‘normal’ abuse and act as a sort of switch for the growth and keep it sleeping, keep it benign so it couldn’t spread or attack his system.

It was also luck that the Healer hired on to their expedition had enough experience to have done the procedure that had purged the excess energies that had caused the growth to be excised along with the tumor itself.

Hence the disgusting mess that had been steadily leaking out of his godson’s ear for the last couple of hours. 

Graves had assured him an hour ago that the tumor had been sloughed away already, gone to trouble the teen no more. The leeching spell the blond had used however, would not cease until Harry’s power returned to a normal healthy balance. Which translated to the disgusting black tar thick goop that was still oozing, making Harry feel unwell from the smell and sensation of it, the roiling mess of his magic trying to equalise and the absolute mess that was his sense of balance trying to right itself into its new norm after likely having spent years out of whack.

The point was...the point was that Sirius had been sleeping all day so he’d be awake and alert for the night shift he and Harry had agreed upon, but in the end the animagus was left feeling like he hadn’t slept in weeks and had been not entirely quietly wondering if new murder charges would actually be added to his ‘sentence’ if he doggy paddled his way back to Britain and strangled the life out of the Dursleys, or if they’d just consider it a good deed when news of what they’d done inevitably got out. Because the truth always finds its way out eventually, it was just a matter of time. 

But he couldn’t do that to Harry, since despite everything they’d done to him, Harry didn’t want them to die. He wasn’t forgiving them, Sirius had been assured, but he didn’t want either himself or the people he actually cared about to be murderers because of him.

Not even if it might have been completely justified. 

Sirius could admit to not understanding that at all, whether that lack of comprehension came from his time in Azkaban or spending his most vulnerable childhood years under the thumb - or wand - of his parents, he just didn’t know. Either way he had ended up giving his word to Harry that he wouldn’t hunt them down and kill them when he got the chance. Though he had choked on the words a bit.

So instead of plotting murder Sirius had sat patiently on his conjured chair and listened to the disorientated teen whisper about soft white sand that was kind-of-definitely burning hot, shining crystal waters that sparkled almost blindingly in the sunlight and a little green-black-maybe brown sea turtle that Harry had seen at a distance and kind-of-definitely wanted to adopt because ‘ _there’s sea turtles Sirius!_ ’. 

The look of wonder and joy on his godsons face while he talked as quietly as he could, eyes closed against the vertigo he was feeling, had been so pure and filled with honest amazement about such a simple thing it made Sirius regret just a little that he’d given his word not to hunt the Dursleys down. Instead he had given Harry a small smile, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it and reached out to very carefully run his fingers through the teens hair while being extra careful not to jostle his head. Over and over he had pet his godson's hair until the words died away and the teen slipped into sleep.

Given that his body would still be working to clear and recenter itself while he slept, the animagus thought that even if the boy couldn’t be given potions to help him sleep just yet - too mindful that Harry himself would be the first warning of something going pear shaped - it was still better if he could sleep through the worst of the disorientation.

So Sirius sat for hours, running his fingers through black hair that was darker and far more wild than his own, even cut short like it had been. Their Healer was quietly sleeping on the far cot rather than in one of the sectioned off rooms in back - one of which had to be his personal quarters - so he was close enough to hear and act if there was a problem but far enough away to give them some privacy.

They stayed like that until the entrance to the pavilion parted and a goblin face peered inside. “Scout Whipthorn reporting, Lord Black.” The gravelly voice informed him.

Casting a look back at his godson Sirius sighed and pushed to his feet, carefully slipping his fingers from black strands as he stood and turned for the entrance. Once the flap had closed behind him again Sirius turned to face the house-elf, goblin duo and noted in the dim light of the lanterns that illuminated the outside of the healers pavilion that the elf was still wearing a pillowcase which told him that the team had likely just returned from a scouting trip. “What is it?” He asked quietly.

“We were sent to investigate the mountain range to the north-east edge of the island. We discovered numerous plateaus dotting the sides of the mountains that appeared to be equally abundant in plant matter as the forests dotted along the valleys between the mountains. I would suggest a more thorough investigation be done of them, however any further expeditions would need to take great care. There appear to be several minotaur tribes living among the peaks and they are notoriously territorial. Similarly I found traces that a wyrm or drake of some variety has decided to nest upon one of the larger volcanoes, though I was unable to get close enough to accurately determine more.” The goblin reported, clear and to the point, expression turned up into a slight sneer of dissatisfaction.

Sirius inclined his head. “That’s fine for now. Did either seem like they had any intention of coming down off the mountains?” He asked, wondering if they could be a potential threat to Skyfall and its small population.

Whipthorn shook his head. “No, not as far as I could see. The minotaurs seemed to be well settled in, the region is large enough and likely abundant enough in food that they have everything they need at hand. I imagine the same is true of the wyrm or drake. There was ample evidence of local game that could be hunted and the minotaurs themselves could be picked off if the beast is large enough. Likely they’ve developed a mutually beneficial symbiotic bond. The drake or wyrm feeds on the minotaur and keep their numbers from growing too large, which in turn keeps them from over harvesting the food that grows on the plateaus and the droppings from the drake or wyrm would be naturally rich in phosphorus and other minerals that nourish the growth of the plants.”

“Circle of life, huh.” The animagus mutters to himself before shaking his head. “If that’s the case then it’ll probably be a good long while before they even notice we’re here. While you were gone Lord Potter declared that all citizens are free to observe their respective cultural practices so long as they don’t cause harm to anyone else and that all house-elves are to dress in the livery of the house they serve. So you’ll find the house-elves that were still here are now dressed in uniforms Harry designed with some of the elves this past morning. Similarly you might also find some that are starting to wear their courting displays if they have them.”

The small elf stared up at Sirius, large eyes wide and quickly turning watery before he rubbed at them to clear away the tears that had begun to gather and snapped a crisp salute. “Gladly sir, much thanks sir!”

The goblin squinted up at Sirius. “Does the same hold true for the goblin people?”

“Yes. Anyone working for a particular house or group should wear at least some marking to represent that but otherwise as long as your practices cause no harm to the citizens of Skyfall, Lord Potter wants everyone to be true to themselves as much as possible.” The animagus told them, glancing back over his shoulder, wanting to get back to Harry in case he woke up. “He’s spent most of his life being told he was supposed to act like something he’s not, he doesn’t want that for anyone else.”

“Noble goals. We’ll see how long they last.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Potter’s, in a general sense, are a pretty stubborn bunch. Something Sirius got to learn first-hand as a boy growing up in the vast halls and corridors of Hogwarts running side by side with the irascible James Fleamont Oswalt Potter. Not that Sirius really had room to judge, the Black’s were just as bad. Maybe worse, depending on the topic at hand.

So really, it didn’t come as a surprise to Sirius when Harry insisted on sitting up and having breakfast with anyone and everyone that wanted to visit. Their Healer on the other hand had had no such education.

“Lord Potter, you really should be resting. You’re going to need as much peace as you can get to facilitate your recovery.” Graves said from his spot beside Harry’s bed, having just deposited several potion phials onto the small sturdy table that straddled the hospital bed. His heterochromatic eyes taking in the waffles, bacon, beans and hash browns liberally piled on Harry’s plate. His expression was less than pleased. “And you really should be eating something a little more balanced, especially so soon.”

Harry looked from the blond to the heaped plate he was slowly working through and back again. “But it’s perfectly balanced, look, this piece of bacon hasn’t fallen off and it’s hanging off the waffles at at least a seventy-five degree angle.”

Sirius quickly smothered a bark of laughter behind a hand, biting his lip and shifting his eyes away from the duo, feigning interest in the very bare walls of the pavilion.

“Besides, I’m a growing boy, I need plenty of carbohydrates if I want to grow up big and strong.” Harry added with a barely hidden grin.

“I think you’ll find that you’re missing protein, vitamins and a smorgasbord of minerals in that.” Healer Graves shot back, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the potions. “Take those, the blue and sparkling grey ones now. The others need to be taken after you finish your meal. Now, I’m going to do my rounds and talk to the house-elves about your future meals. I expect to see you done and resting when I get back.”

Harry grinned up at him, still looking a little wan despite his bravado. “I’d best get to work then.” He chirped, plucking a hash brown off his plate.

Healer Graves rolled his eyes at the look and turned away to pick up a large carpet bag from the floor beside him and shifted his multi-hued gaze across to Sirius instead. “I’ll trust you to keep an eye on my patient, Lord Black. He’s not to leave his bed for any reason and guests should be limited to one at a time. Too much activity and sound right now will likely end in severe vertigo and will probably send his meal right back up, at best. So rest please, Lord Potter, I’ll be back in approximately an hour.”

Sirius raised a lazy hand to both acknowledge the request and wave farewell before turning his attention back to his godson. “He’s not wrong though, we both could stand to eat a bit better. I know I’m still a long way off from recovering from what Azkaban did to me.” He said softly, reaching out to filch the precariously balanced bit of bacon off the teens plate. “You’re going to need to balance your meals for a while to help you grow into a healthy weight range since you’re still a little under. Especially when we get stuck into all the exercises for your dueling training. You’ve got magical stamina coming out your ears, but you need physical stamina to keep moving, you’ll be less likely to take a stunner to the face if you can keep ducking and diving out of the way.”

“I know.” Harry shrugged, uncorking the two potions he was meant to take and downing them one after the other in rapid succession. He grimaced at the taste and reached for his cup of water, downing half of it to get rid of the taste so it wouldn’t ruin his meal. “I figured since I’m supposed to be on bed rest and light exercise for a couple weeks I’d use the time to work on more ideas for the city and do some revision work.”

“Not a bad idea. It’s going to take about a week to complete each of the buildings that are already under construction...their shells at least. All the furnishing and digging out vaults in Gringotts case is going to take longer, but the goblins can handle that on their own without major issue, I don’t think. That at least means the Volstar Ministry building will be completed to your specifications by the time you’re released back to active duty, as it were.” Sirius said as he leaned back in his stool, licking bacon grease from his fingertips.

“Mhmm. Healer Graves said I’ll be going from this bed to my office in there and I’m not supposed to go out and do any exploring for another few weeks after while my body gets used to the different movement again. I’m supposed to go from a slow walk to normal walking to power walking, then to jogging then running. After that I can try out flying on a broom and slowly work up speed and positions. He said I need to teach my body up down left and right and all the rest, kind of like how a baby gets used to movement. Except it won’t take as long.” Harry explained softly, face twisting up in annoyance at the process. “After he’s cleared my with the broom then we’re going to try apparating, since it puts the most stress on the body.”

The animagus bobbed his head, having been told much the same while Harry had been sleeping when the healer had gotten up from his own sleep to check on him. “But at least you’ll be up to speed. Most of the work going on right now revolves around us mostly staying put, so you won’t be missing out on anything.”

“I know, it just sucks.”

“I know, pup.” Sirius murmured softly, reaching out to gently pat the teens knee. “Look at it this way, the sooner we can get a functioning government set up, the sooner you’ll have other people in position to properly pick up the slack and give you more time to focus more on the things you want. Have you given much thought to how you want to set the law side of things up?”

“Not really, I haven’t gotten very far in my politics books yet. I started, but then I thought I should work on my charms a bit.” Harry admitted ruefully.

The older man huffed a laugh. “Boring as hell, law and politics. At least in books. It’s all more interesting if you’re doing it for yourself. At least that’s how it was for your dad and I when we went through our training after Hogwarts. You need to go through less of the book crap during auror training than if you’re going into law or politics, but there’s still a lot and it’s all boring as hell.”

The teen pulled a face and set to aggressively cutting up his waffle. “I don’t have much of a choice though. If I’m the king I should know all the laws and all the other stuff too, right?”

“Only if you want to be a good king. History is full of people who were the leader of their country but didn’t actually know much of anything. Everything got delegated to someone else, so all they had to know is who knew how to make what they wanted to happen, happen.” Sirius said with a shrug, reaching out with one hand to stabilize the others plate so it wouldn’t slide around the tabletop. “If you really wanted to, you could do the same thing. You’re young enough that no-one would blame you or think less of you and aside from that, once the Ministry is up and running all you’d need to do is tell the Minister what you want and then it would be their job to make sure it happens.”

“I guess...wouldn’t it be better if I know it though, in case something goes wrong, or the minister turns out to be bad or something?”

“Ideally. Your mum once told me it was better if you knew as much as possible, even if it was information you never end up using. She said that a man that knows a lot of stuff can go through life easy because he always knows what to do in any given situation, but a man that knows only a little will always struggle, trying to figure out the hows and whys of everything.” Sirius told him quietly, staring off at nothing for a moment as he recalled the conversation. It had been just after Lily and James had started dating and they had been sitting around the Gryffindor common room discussing jobs and N.E.W.T.s and further education options post-Hogwarts. “I told her she sounded like an old woman, she told me I sounded like an ignorant wanker and that I needed to study more if I wanted to pass my aurors exam. Clever girl, your mum.”

Harry made a soft sound of acceptance as he focused on the last of his breakfast. It seemed like the stuff Hermione kept telling him and Ron to get them both to focus on their homework or to study for an upcoming test. Somehow though, hearing it in his mums words made it feel heavier almost, more important. Probably because the only thing he could remember telling him was to be brave and strong, that she loved him. He had a giant hole where his parents should have been and instead of parents, all he had was other people's memories of them. Barely even that.

Seeing the teens expression take a turn towards morose, Sirius reached out and bumped the potions he was meant to take post-meal so they rattled against each other. “Go on, down with this lot. Once you’ve grimaced your way through we can work on the plans for the school for a bit before we start in on the politics and law stuff.”

Reaching for the first potion with a huff, Harry quickly downed the first one. “Ugh, it tastes like something died in it mid-brew.” He complained but nevertheless reached for the next one. “I actually had a thought about that, the school I mean. Or at least the name.”

“Oh?”

Making another face and shuddering through the second potion, Harry nodded and reached for the last one. “Probably more of a dream than a thought, but, what do you think of The Starstrider Academy?” He asked, giving his godfather a look before downing the last potion and quickly using the last of his water to wash down the taste.

“It fits the theme we seem to have going. We’ve got something celestial in it and it’s divisible by seven. Sounds nice too, a little posh but not too snobby.” Sirius murmured, tilting his head this way and that as he thought it over. “Planning on dividing the students into houses like some of the other schools do?”

“Probably, I know the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was a bit much, but the other house combinations got on fine and it makes it easier to organise school sports and things if the classes can be divided up a few times. First into houses, then into year...or something like that. I know the system can work, because they had the same thing at my primary school and everyone got on fine. It just was a bit toxic at Hogwarts thanks to all the bullying that no-one really did anything about.”

Sirius grimaced. “You’re not wrong, I know when we were at school we could be a bunch of giant assholes sometimes, particularly if a prank ended up going too far...and all the stuff with Sni-Snape.”

Harry studied the older man for a long moment before deciding to let it go for now and making a mental note to prod the other more on the subject at a later date. “I think rather than separating kids based on certain traits that maybe it would be better if they were divided at random, so that there’s a mix of personalities and traits in each group.”

“Hmm, well if it’s naming things after celestial bodies, my family are old hats at that. Using the constellations is probably the easiest way, you can even pick constellations that have a corresponding animal shape so each house still has a mascot.” Sirius suggested, leaning forward in on his stool, expression shifting into an excited grin as he got more into the idea. “We could give the Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster symbols to represent their different positions..the sun and moon for example.”

The teen grinned back, reclining back on the pillows that had been built up into a mound behind his back to help him stay upright. “I like that, the headboy and girl can have little sun shaped pins, and the prefects can have moon shaped ones. Houses though...I think we should have something that reflects the land we’ve got. Mountains, forests, ocean and air…”

They both pondered that for a long moment before Sirius clicked his fingers. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Waitwaitwait!” Harry cut him off. “Can you pass me up my bag, my notebook is in there and I want to write all this down before I forget.”

“Probably a good idea.” Sirius admitted as he leaned down to snatch up the leather bag from beside the bed and gently sat it on the teens lap and watched him dig out a notebook and quill, and quickly flip to the first free page which was the one just after his notes on the house-elf uniforms and customs. Sirius watched him write out the ideas thus far, few though they were before he resumed sharing his idea. “Okay, there are a couple options if we’re going with constellations, but how do you like the sound of Canis, Pavo, Ursa and Cestus?”

Harry frowned thoughtfully, jotting the names down and staring at them. “I know two of them, Canis and Ursa, Dog and Bear, I remember learning those two in primary school. I don’t know the other two.”

“You’re right about Canis and Ursa, they’re both constellations that are divided into a Major and a Minor.” Sirius explained patiently, a slightly lopsided grin stretching across his lips. “Canis Major is where you find Sirius, or the Dog Star, the brightest star in the night sky. Which yours truly was named for. Cestus is also called the Sea Monster, though it’s shaped like a whale, and Pavo is the Peacock. So those are your ocean and air spots.”

“Can peacocks even fly?” Harry asked with a frown.

“They can, although they usually don’t fly very far so a lot of people just call it gliding. The other options for air from the constellations are Corvus the Crow, Phoenix which is self explanatory, Aquila the Eagle, Columba the Dove, Cygnus the Swan - which is name of one of my uncles who was an absolute bastard and a horrible bigot - Draco the Dragon, Grus the Crane, Musca the Fly - which just seems insulting to me - and Tucana the Toucan.” The animagus sounded off each, ticking them off on his fingers as he went, adding the occasional bit of input as he went.

“Crow and Eagle would just make me think of Ravenclaw, and Phoenix just makes me think of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledors pet phoenix so that’s out too. Cygnus and Draco are both out for the same reason. Musca...yeah, that’s just asking for people to start bullying that house.” Harry admitted with a grimace before he sighed. “Neither Columba, Grus or Tucana sound quite right either. So I guess you’re right, Pavo with it’s Peacock mascot seems like the best option. We can make their house colours purple and green.”

“You know, there’s a shade of green called Peacock Green, it’s actually a pretty nice colour. It was one of the colours your parents were considering when they were painting your nursery until Lily decided it was too much and decided it would be painted this soft yellow colour instead. Probably a good call, really.” Sirius said absently, thinking back on the very one sided argument led by a very pregnant and equally terrifying Mrs. Lily Potter.

Not entirely sure what to do with the information Harry simply jotted down the colours next to the house name and mascot before moving on. “That works. I guess blue and green for Cestus, so they have something in common with Pavo. Then orange and grey for Ursa and yellow and grey for Canis. They all can wear a red band on their arm with a year pin on it, and any other pins they earn from clubs or achievements. Like being on the house quidditch team, or pin for getting the highest grades that year.”

“Identification and an end of school memento, not a bad idea at all pup.” Sirius told him with a grin of approval. “What kinds of clubs would there be though, Hogwarts didn’t have many, at least not when I went.”

Harry pursed his lips as he thought that over a bit, thinking back on old conversations he’d had off and on with Hermione and some of the other Gryffindors and some half remembered bits he could vaguely remember hearing about other schools. “Choir, literature club, wizards chess club, muggle games, photography club, art club...ahhh a trivia club and a dance club. Almost all of them could have little competitions in clubs, so they could make friends and maybe get rewards for their achievements that way too. There really wasn’t much at Hogwarts to reward study or skills except gaining points towards the House Cup, but that doesn’t feel like very much since only one house can win that and everyone else has nothing to show for their efforts really.”

“You’ve given this a fair amount of thought.”

“Not really. It’s just something that comes up now and then when Hermione gets talking about school. Hermione said there was a study done and it showed that kids were more likely to actually try to study or achieve things if there was a tangible reward involved, or any kind of real recognition for their effort at least. Like Ron, I love him and he’s my best mate but a lot of the time he doesn’t try as much as he maybe could. Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually pretty clever, but he’s got a small army of older brothers and they’ve all achieved everything he could potentially achieve at Hogwarts, there’s nothing to help him stand out as his own unique person." Harry told him, pausing after a moment to take a long sip from his water cup that had been refilled at some point when he wasn't paying attention.

"But Ron, he’s an absolute genius when it comes to strategy, he’s a demon at wizards chess and Hermione and I thought if there was a club for that where he could take part in competitions, even just against other students then it would give him something more to focus on and be acknowledged for that’s something all of his own since he can run rings around the rest of the Weasleys when it comes to chess, even Mr. Weasley gets thrashed when he plays against Ron.” Harry explained, expression earnest and lips tilting up at the corners as he remembered the stories he had heard from multiple Weasley sources. “Besides, when it comes time for the graduates to write up their resumes and look for jobs, they can put down what clubs they were in if they were in one. It could tell future employers that a kid is experienced in certain things or if they’re familiar with certain concepts or that they might have a certain skill they’re looking for. Like the aurors or politicians might look out for kids who were in the chess club because they’re familiar with strategies and having to be patient and think things through.”

Sirius listened patiently, turning over the thought a bit before slowly nodding. “That’s not a bad idea actually, write those down before you forget. You can come back to them and discuss it with whatever headmaster you end up employing for the school.”

“Right.” Harry agreed and set to making notes about the different clubs he had thought up, adding a note about club pins and red sashes or armbands as part of the student uniform, which should be a brighter colour as a base to help combat the much warmer weather on Volstar. Notes about white, light blue and cream with a border of question marks.

Watching the teen work Sirius let himself smile, a soft slightly bittersweet little thing. He knew objectively that he barely knew his godson, had only just begun to get to know him properly for who he was beyond his best mates' son. Despite that though he already felt more proud than he knew what to do with. He hadn’t had many people in his life to feel proud of. There was Regulus of course, before their mother really got her claws into him. Then there was James and Remus, and Peter to a certain extent, though less Peter than James and definitely less than Remus. Watching Remus go from timid boy to the cheeky shit he’d turned into thanks to his and James’ influence truly had been a thing of wonder.

But here Harry was, just on fourteen, building a home for everyone that needed it. Somewhere inclusive that thought about things like encouraging the future generations with more than petty rivalries - though admittedly there would probably still be a bit of that because kids were little shits more often than not - and rewarding effort. He could see the teens notebook well enough from where he was sitting that he was able to read what was being written down in Harry’s messy chicken scratch scrawl. So he could see the notes about primary education being handled in a separate school. He could also ready the scrawl about small schools that would teach lessons geared towards squibs to make sure they had all the skills and knowledge they would need to be valued members of society, not castoff unmentionables like they were in Britain.

Really, if he got any prouder of the boy, he was liable to choke on it.

It was just a shame James and Lily weren’t around to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter passed, what do you think?
> 
> What are your thoughts about what's happening, about the school plans, the houses and the other little tidbits?
> 
> It's 7:23am Monday morning at the time of posting this chapter. I ended up pulling an all-nighter to get it finished so I could upload it on time, since I ended up getting slammed in the face with a particularly annoying bout of writers block for a good chunk of this chapter and I couldn't really skip past it (or I could have but I think it wouldn't have fit as well). But I was able to get it wrapped up without it ending up late, so I'll settle for that. Though now my sleep schedule will probably be stuck in Nocturnal mode, which is better for my writing but worse for my mental health...soooo....that's a bit of a toss up. It'll probably end up shifting back around it Diurnal before too long, so I'm not too worried.
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading everyone, thanks in advance to everyone who takes the time to drop me a comment and for all the tasty Kudos. It's all greatly appreciated.


	8. The March of Time and Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Construction is moving along nicely and the first of their buildings are completed. Harry meets with his council while the Order stew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, welcome back to our next chapter.  
> A quick thank you to everyone that took the time to leave me a little comment, they're all greatly appreciated.
> 
> We're skipping forward a bit through most of our dear Harry's recover, because there's only so long Harry could stay idle before he just snaps.  
> So, without further ado, please enjoy Chapter 08!

#### August 16th 1994 - Solar Conference Room, Volstar Ministry of Magic, Skyfall, Volstar Island

Harry sat hunched over slightly in his tall high back chair with its sun and moon and stars set into it. Mr. Payne, their resident carpenter and glazier had made it specially for him, carving it out and setting in the crystal-glass details. 

It looked rather special, Harry had thought. The sun and moon and stars were carved from the crystal glass and were like little windows, clear through the high chair back so that light would shine through them, making them sparkle. The fact that behind his place at the head of the large conference table was a large fireplace that provided both warmth and flickering light that made those details glimmer like real stars had probably been entirely intentional.

Not for the first time the young king idly wondered if it was strange to be so happy about a chair.

Probably.

Though admittedly he was also very happy with his office, which was located only a little bit away from the conference room he was deployed in, the conference room which existed for his meeting only. Each of the departments had their own large meeting room, charmed into wizard space to be bigger than they would have been otherwise at fourteen-by-seven meters, which was larger than most rooms Harry had ever been in, barring only a few notable exceptions.

But the point of the size was that they would have ample space for each department head, the Minister and the reigning king or queen to meet and discuss whatever was needed in comfort. It would also help the magical protections built into each of those rooms, which everyone agreed would be for the best. Having dedicated, warded spaces for certain meetings that would involve specific potential threats to individuals in positions of power did a lot to ensure each one could have their own stand alone warding scheme that was separated from the Ministry building as a whole.

It was one of the things that both Sirius and the goblins had been particularly insistently in agreement over.

His office, the monarch's office, was a massive thing which was bigger than the Dursleys _house_ was. It was also, according to both Bill and Sirius, ‘warded up to the eyeballs’. It had layers upon layers woven together with clauses and failsafes and emergency triggers spells that had sounded a lot like overkill to Harry. But he had promised Sirius that he would let his security team - which was the casual title Sirius used to describe himself, Bill and Talonbreaker, who was the goblin warding specialist and the most paranoid goblin Harry had met yet - work through his protections and decide what was actually necessary. 

Which as it turned out, was quite a lot.

So it was huge, warded to kingdom come and housed an equally massive desk for him to use whenever he wanted. It had a smaller conference table for ‘casual’ meetings. A somewhat large but nice looking marble fireplace for floo calls or travel, which had been given its own overkill protections. It had a smaller desk where apparently his head assistant would sit, someone Sirius told him would usually also be a secret bodyguard, just in case. 

The room even had its own bathroom for guests and what had been called a small suite with a second bathroom - which seemed redundant to Harry - something that was for his personal use only so that anyone else entering it whose magic and blood hadn’t been keyed into the wards would sent off alarms in several places within the Ministry. Namely the offices of the Minister of Magic, the Head of the Department for Law Enforcement and the Ministry Guard stations that dotted each level of the Ministry.

They had tested it out yesterday. 

The results had been...exciting.

So for now, until the royal palace was constructed - which Harry had insisted only start _after_ the core buildings and residences for all of his fellow settlers were complete given the scale of the build - Harry was living and working in his Ministry office and suite. 

Which his healer approved off since it meant he was running around less.

Though he had floo’d a couple of days ago between the Gringotts branch managers office - which was currently serving as Goldhammers office for now - to Harry’s own office without so much as a wobbly step. Something that had both amazed Harry and had been seen hijacked by Bill and Sirius as an excuse to celebrate.

But regardless, the Ministry building, the Gringotts building and the newly named Seekers Rest Inn were all completed. Most of the humans had already moved into suites in the inn as a stand in for their permanent residences, since the suites the inn boasted were a step up from the average charmed tent. Construction was currently underway on the hospital, the schools and the greenhouses, all of which were apparently moving along at a decent clip .

The sound of brisk footsteps dragged his attention up from his notes and he watched Sirius stride over to the seat that had been left open at Harry’s right. 

“Morning Sirius.” Harry greeted the animagus with a smile.

“Morning pup, have you eaten?”

Harry shook his head as he pushed himself to sit up straight in his throne-like chair. “Not yet, I thought I’d wait until after the meeting and eat with you.”

“Then we best get things underway,” He said, “the sooner we get things done here, the sooner your healer will stop scowling at me.”

Multiple soft chuckles greeted the statement as everyone else in attendance turned their attention from the notes in front of them to focus instead on Harry as he rapped his knuckles, something that had become a habit to signify his readiness to start their meetings.

“Alright, now that we’re all here we’ve got a few things to get through this meeting so we may as well get to it. You’ve all got some notes that detail some of today's topics. First of which will be the progress report of our current construction.” Harry informed them, giving a nod of his head to where Mr. Jack Payne and Mr. Matthew Bolder were sitting side by side. “Gentlemen?”

The two men exchanged a long look of silent communication before Mr. Payne shrugged and shifted his focus back to Harry. “As of end of day last night, the Ministry, Gringotts and the Seekers Rest are all fully furnished, barring decorations like pictures and plants and such. As requested all windows have been charmed self-cleaning and unbreakable.” He reported, giving a nod to Tilander, the representative for the house-elves in Skyfall. “The house-elves have insisted on weaving a few tapestries for each, and our esteemed Madam Hubbard is drafting up a list of decorative plants that would do well indoors.”

Mr. Bolder nodded. “Right. Shells are about 70% done on the Little Star Primary School and the Starstrider Academy. We’re about 40% through on the Glimmerbright Hospital since we started with the basement levels and the Full Moon Ward first, but the lycanthropy suites you wanted are all complete and are as sturdy as we can make them. Furniture has all been worked unbreakable, reception zones for fresh food and water have been plotted out so house-elf caretakers can still give care without endangering themselves.”

“The bathrooms are all done up and unbreakable, too. They’ll have everything they need to ride out the full moon and a couple days on either side if need be.” Jack added, giving a shrug of his shoulders as he reached for his steaming mug of coffee. “I’m working on getting what windows in that I can between work on the actual building frames. The base framework is done for the current buildings so I’ll be moving on to drafting up an assortment of house plans for our residents to choose from.”

Madam Hubbard hummed softly, just loud enough to draw the attention of the table to her. “The greenhouses are going up quick smart, shouldn’t be long before all of the ones planned for our current crops and ingredients are finished. Couple days at most I believe. Our first harvest can be expected in the latter end of autumn, as I’ve taken the liberty of using certain green charms that can speed up the growth of plant matter, though at a slight cost in the end nutritional benefits of the harvest each time it’s cast. But using it just the once to help replace the food and resources we’ve consumed and giving us a buffer for the next year is well worth it. Especially as we’ll be able to allow it all it’s natural sowing and harvest cycle next planting.”

“Great. How is construction going for the goblins, Goldhammer?” Harry asked, shifting his focus to the goblin builder.

“Vaults numbered zero to one-thousand have been constructed. Their various protections are being applied as we speak,” the smartly dressed goblin reported, “Vault zero has been registered to me as Chief of the goblins of this island. Vault number One has been designated for use by yourself as King and will pass down to whichever King or Queen reigns here. The Third has been assigned for use as the kingdoms treasury. Vaults have similarly been assigned to the three schools, the hospital and so on as required. You will need to visit when able so the securities of your vault can be keyed to you.”

“Right, I should be able to swing through after lunch, if that’s alright?”

“Acceptable.”

Harry’s bright green eyes, glanced down at the list he had in front of him. “Now that the Ministry building is completed, it’s time to start putting together our own departments and Wizengamot. As such I’ve drafted up the Ministry departments and as people with more worldly and political experience than I have, I’d like to know your thoughts. The departments are: 

“The Department of Law and Order, which will contain our auror force, the ministry solicitors office, the Artefact Misuse office, the Wizengamot and it’s administration offices and the taxation and treasury offices. Also found in the department will be the Office for Public Information, which will deal with getting out any information the Ministry needs to communicate to the public and will act as liaisons with news and media services.

“The Department of Transportation, who will act like the British one and will have the offices for the floo network, broom regulation, portkeys and apparation test center. Though in future they’ll also oversee any other forms of transportation that we include at a later date.” Harry explained, looking up to see that several heads were nodding in understanding or acceptance.

“Next there’s the Department for Magical Entertainment, who will oversee and regulate Quidditch, Gobstones, Wizard Chess tournaments, Duelling tournaments and concerts and plays that incorporate magic into their performances. It’ll also house the Entertainment Research Office, which will primarily investigate and brainstorm new forms of games or other entertainment.

“Next along, the Department of International Cooperation. They’ll deal primarily in foreign affairs and will have our offices for international magical law, international trade and our ICW seats if we join. They’ll also house the offices for our tourism board, both planning, oversight and research.

“The fifth Department is the Department of Interspecies Cooperation. The Beast, Being and Spirit divisions will be responsible for keeping an eye on all species that fit under their purview and investigating if something untoward happens, such as illegal poaching of Magical Beasts or a disagreement or widespread illness pops up within a particular group of Magical Beings. Also located there will be liaison offices for each sapient magical species that calls Volstar home, they’ll act a bit like a foreign consulate in that those offices will essentially be like the sovereign soil of the race it belongs to and will help mitigate problems and help work towards better understanding of their species and their culture.

“Next is the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Now, even though the name is the same as the British one, given the lack of muggles in our immediate area it’ll work a little differently. It’ll still have the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad and Invisibility Task Force, though the latter will primarily be focused on keeping an eye on the shrouding around the island and the redirection of any muggle ships that stray too close to our shores. The shrouding we have does have a subtle suggestion element to it that will make ships and the like avoid us on their own, but given we’ll have ships of our own and tourist ventures along the coasts it would be better to keep an eye on things to make sure there’s no near misses.”

Harry paused again to glance around to make sure everyone was following, idly noting the pleased looks with a budding sense of warmth.

“Given that we have volcanoes, hot springs and geothermal vents around the island, the Catastrophe part of the name comes from the offices and task forces that will be responsible for monitoring the volcanic activity and the acidity and mineral concentration of the hotsprings so we know as far in advance as possible if something bad is going to happen like earthquakes, volcanic eruptions or stuff like that. Then if we need to, their task forces will be in charge of signaling alerts and mitigating some or all of the chaos.

“The Department of Child Services will contain: the Department of Education which will have split offices for both magical education and squib education. It will also oversee bi-yearly in school examinations to make sure no one is falling behind or being interfered with academically. The Orphanage Oversight Office, which I think is pretty self explanatory. It’ll also house the Child Welfare Offices who will be responsible for investigating and bringing to auror attention possible cases of abuse and neglect. They’ll also do research into promoting and mental and physical wellbeing in children and teenagers. And as such those services will be handled in a joint exchange with the Department of Health and Welfare, our primary health department which we're still trying to iron out.

“And then last comes the Department of Dangerous Research. This is the one going on B10, the lowest level which is densely warded to prevent any accidents that happen in the offices and labs down there from getting out and spreading through the rest of the building and further. They’ll be responsible for the research into anything weird we uncover and they’ll be spearheading a lot of our research into advancements. Technology, potions, you name it, they’ll be the first line for government driven progress.” 

_They’ll also handle intelligence and counter intelligence._ Harry added silently, recalling the secret meeting he had had late the previous night with Sirius and Chief Goldhammer, who had both agreed it was something that would be vital to the overall security of the kingdom.

“Sound’s pretty straightforward to me.” Bill said with a shrug. “Doesn’t sound like you’ve missed anything important. Though, I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t spent much time in the Ministry or chit chatting with politicians.”

Madam Hubbard lightly tapped on the table in front of her to gain their attention. “There is one thing, if I might be so bold as to make a suggestion?”

Harry nodded, leaning forward in his seat slightly. “Of course.”

“It’s not something most Ministries actually have, but a department dedicated to our flora and fauna that would keep an eye on the various farms, on our resources levels and set to action if something drops a little too low. It could have labs for study and research as well, for cultivating and cross-breeding. It could be split into magical and mundane species.” She suggested, fiddling just a little with her teacup. “We don’t have anything set up as yet to monitor and control our resources, officially at least.”

Sirius hummed thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea that. Keeps everything tidy and together in the one building. In the British Ministry they only have an agriculture liaison office, all the rest is off site in the middle of nowhere. The few times I had to get in touch with someone because of a case back when I was an auror...it was a nightmare.”

Harry picked his quill up and quickly tacked on ‘The Department of Agriculture & Resource Management’ to the bottom of his list along with the rest of Madam Hubbard’s suggestion. “Done. Can anyone think of anything else?” He asked, looking around the table again.

There were a few thoughtful hums from here and there before slowly, one by one everyone shook their heads. Nodding his own, Harry checked off the topic from his list and set his planning notes for the Ministry departments aside rather pleased with himself. He’d of course had an example to emulate, but he rather thought he’d managed to think up a few things that weren’t actually a thing for the British Ministry but would be very helpful for the home he had wanted to build. The Child Welfare section he was particularly keen for, for obvious reasons.

“Alright, next up; the Wizengamot. I decided it would be a lot simpler to just emulate the British model and make adjustments where we needed them. Like allowing members of other races to hold seats in the Wizengamot, as long as they’re a full reside-”

“You’re going to let other races into the government?!” Several voices interrupted.

Harry blinked, looking around the table in confusion. “Yeah, sure. It’s the Ministry of Magic, it’s for magic people.” He stated, arching his brow at the people at the table in much the same way he did whenever one of the Dursleys did or said something particularly silly.

“You’d give the goblin nation a say in deciding wizard policies?” Goldhammer inquired, dark eyes narrowed while he studied the teen.

“They’re not wizard policies, they’re just policies. It’s not just wizards and witches building this place, it’s all of us, working together. I’m not going to assume I know the intimate thoughts and needs of people that belong to an entirely different culture, that’s just dumb.” The boy king insisted, screwing his face up at the idea of it. “The Wizengamot for Volstar will be made up of three possible parties, the Progressives, the Intermediates and the Traditionalists. Each person with a voting seat needs to determine for themselves where they feel they best belong each season since people grow and change and their ideals might change too. There will be a maximum of fifty members belonging to any one race and an absolute maximum of twenty-one seats can be controlled by any one House to stop anyone from stockpiling votes. In the event of a voting tie, the crown will hold the deciding vote.”

He paused to let them all think that over and instead reached for his own cup of tea, thankful that the set had been charmed to keep its contents constantly at whatever temperature it had entered in. Taking several careful sips he thought back on all the reading he had been doing over the last week and a bit while he had been confined to bed rest. He’d spent almost the entirety of it pouring through his law and politics books, taking notes and grilling his healer who apparently had family in America that worked closely with - or actually were - members of the magical congress there. He had been willing to share what bits of information he had mostly because it kept Harry focused on something that in turn kept him in bed resting, though Harry was pretty sure the man was starting to go just a little mad with all the questions.

Goldhammer’s gravelly voice drew his focus back to the table. “How are you determining who may gain a seat?” He asked curiously.

“Each person sitting at this table, who wants to remain here as a citizen will have the option of elevating their family line to a Noble House in recognition for their contributions to the birth of this island kingdom. If you accept, your House will also be awarded a seat on the Wizengamot. In the case of the goblins, the reigning Chiefs of the various towns or cities that pop up will automatically be counted among the fifty members for their race. Outside of that, individuals can be nominated for one of the other fifty seats based on merit. 

“The seats controlled by Noble Houses will be passed down the line like any other inheritance, though if they are the last of their House, seat holders are able to bequeath their seats to someone else. If someone would inherit more than their maximum of twenty seats, they’ll have to pick between the seats they have access to and determine which ones they want to keep. Any overflow should then either be gifted to someone else or be returned to the crown to be awarded to either a new house or an elected representative. The same applies to seats that cannot be inherited and have not otherwise been bequeathed or gifted to someone else before their holder's death. That’s the Lords section. The Commons are all individuals voted in via the public at large like normal elected representatives.”

The room was so silent when he had finished talking that it actually hurt his ears just a little. Most of the humans at the table were looking particularly wide eyed and pale, the goblins all looked surprised and the three house-elves that were seated at the table - at Harry’s insistence - all looked terrified.

Maybe he should have made more time to explain his thoughts, at least to the house-elves.

“Just to be clear, Tilander, I’m not going to forcefully free any of the house-elves from service. But if there are free elves out there, I want them to know they can have a home and a voice here.” Harry quickly assured the house-elf, watching as he all but melted into his seat along with the other two elves on either side of him. “I would still like you to pick a couple of the house-elves to sit on the Wizengamot so that you're represented. Your people and your culture.”

“The Master is very kind.” The head-elf said after a moment, big eyes flicking between the table and Harry. “Tilly will do so.”

“What would it mean, being a citizen and sitting on the Wizengamot?” Mr. Bolder rumbled, scratching one stubbled cheek.

“As a citizen you’d have full rights and privileges in terms of employment, taxes and the like. You can vote for your preferred representative, buy a home and start a business without special approval. Though dual citizenship will be allowed, a person won’t be eligible to hold multiple positions of authority across their home nations. So if you’re a member of the Wizengamot here, you can’t also sit on the Wizengamot in Britain, or sit on the ICW board. It’s a conflict of interest and I’d really prefer to avoid the possibility of another governing body taking advantage to try and sneak information or destabilize us.” Harry explained, getting a quick approving nod from the goblins who were always quick to praise him in some small way whenever he made a choice that they thought was good and for the protection of his people.

“Just like Britain, the Wizengamot is our High Court and will preside over our most important court cases, they will also debate on and propose new laws if a situation arises that proves a need for ones to be made. Lastly some will be requested to oversee smaller court cases and act as representatives for important political functions.” He continued, looking from one attentive face to the next. “Each member will receive a flat wage, paid each month for their services to our people and will be eligible for free training to help them fulfill their duties.”

Sirius hummed thoughtfully. “We’re going to get a lot of different responses from other countries going forward.”

“I’m good with that. Seeing how other people react will help us figure out who we actually want to make friends with diplomatically. Anyone that thinks they can try and shame us for showing our citizens some basic decency and respect isn’t someone we want to be allies with.” Harry replied, voice and countenance hardened to steel.

“I’m with you there, Harry, we just might not make that many friends among the other magical communities.” Sirius said, smiling a little as he saw Lily and James in the determination in his godson's bright green eyes and the squareness of his jaw.

Harry shrugged, relaxing a little as he leaned back in his throne-like chair, satisfied that at least Sirius was accepting his stance. “I didn’t make my first friend until I started at Hogwarts and I’ve only got a few people that I’d count as good friends now. I’d rather we have a few allies that respect us than a handful that would scorn us for putting the welfare of our people before their selfish demands.”

“So, you really want to make us all Lords?” The question came from Bill who was seated on the other side of Sirius. His complexion was even paler than normal, making his long red hair look even more vivid in comparison. The expression on his face looked rather conflicted, caught somewhere between awed and confused.

“For services to Volstar and to myself personally. I can’t count the amount of things I’ve already been learning from each of you, it feels wrong to me to not acknowledge that. Plus, you’re all literally helping to build the place, it just makes sense to me that you have a say when policies and the like need to be worked out.” Harry reasoned.

There’s a rather long silence as everyone thinks that over. It makes a certain amount of sense, provided you forgot that most men in power tend to keep a jealous hold over every bit of that power and only share it with the people that can benefit them most. As knowledgeable as most of the table is in their particular field of study, the vast majority of them aren’t what most would call politically or socially affluent. So being freely offered the kind of influence that could shape - or re-shape - an entire nation with the casting of a few votes, was really quite an unexpected turn.

“Well, we’d be daft to turn it down.” Mr. Payne stated dryly. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Same Time - 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England.

The mood was both sombre and thoughtful in the dining room of the old Black family townhouse. Tea and cakes were set out along the old scuffed up table, though most had gone cold as the witches and wizards at the table had talked, relaying bits of information or some theory they’d had. 

This was their third meeting in the run down house but the topics of conversation were just the same as they had been the previous two times. 

After Remus had found Sirius’s letter, he had of course shared it with Albus as Sirius’ letter had instructed in the post script. The old headmaster had in turn reached out to Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger to see if they had also received a letter. The affirmative led to the calling of the first official meeting of the Order of the Phoenix in many years, and they had sat around the table - just like they were now - and had read over the letters with their scant bits of information and discussed the possibilities.

Well. That is to say that Severus had scowled in his corner, Remus had frowned in thoughtful concern, Molly had been up in arms about Harry being who knows where being besieged by dangers they knew not. Albus’s old friend Alastor Moody had spoken of a cornucopia of dastardly plots and Minerva had huffed and tutted at Albus that they shouldn’t be surprised that Mr. Potter would choose to run away instead of staying with such horrible muggles.

Ron and Hermione had whispered back and forth from their seats at the table, awed and confused by the whole event and not surprised in the least that Harry had gone off and done something reckless and adventurous. Though Ron had been a little miffed at being left behind and firmly out of the adventure.

And Albus had sat in his chair, stirring his tea and watching the whirls, contemplating the abrupt events while he listened and weighed each of his order members' words.

He had post meeting sent out feelers to see if anyone had seen hide or hair of the young teenager specifically, since he knew asking after Sirius would likely lead them on a wild goose chase given the general populous’ hysteria over the entirety of the issues that was Sirius Black.

It had taken a while, but eventually they had turned up small snippets of information. Namely that the Knight Bus had picked up Harry from his Surrey residence and had dropped him off outside the Leaky Cauldron. 

From there noone asked could recall seeing him, though Hermione had reasoned that noone _would_ see Harry unless he wanted or needed them to, reminding them that Harry had in his possession the Potter Invisibility Cloak which he would use to protect himself from being discovered. Particularly if he had indeed chosen to run away.

All at once Albus had been pleased and chagrined that he had passed the Cloak to young Harry as he had those few short years past. On one hand it was keeping him hidden from those who would no doubt seek to harm him, for which Albus was greatly relieved. On the other, that same protection worked against them, keeping them from tracking him to ascertain his safety and wellbeing.

Several stores had confirmed that they had served a young man of Harry’s approximate age and build, though none could say for certain if the young man had indeed been Harry Potter. Or at least, none _would_ confirm it. Whether by some form of customer loyalty or just an outright refusal to be helpful.

By the second meeting Severus had confirmed that as far as his careful questioning could gather, none of the Death Eaters he could safely query had even an inkling that Harry had even been missing. Noone else had any news either, their efforts to work out just where Harry had disappeared to resulting in naught but worry.

So now they were gathering again, discussing stray thoughts and theories. Sharing tidbits of observations and the like.

It had just gone on lunch so they were joined this time by Arthur Weasley who sank into a chair and gratefully received a plate of sandwiches and a kiss on the cheek from his wife.

“There’s a rumor going around the Ministry.” He informed the table as he carefully picked up one half of his first sandwich and carefully maneuvered the bountiful thing to make sure none of the fillings fell out the back. “I heard it this morning. Comes from down in records.”

Albus cocked his head in curiosity, giving the man his attention even as he reached for another of Molly’s homemade jammie dodgers. “Oh?”

“A land sale, apparently, quite a substantial one if the rumor is to be believed. Between the goblins and another party, didn’t manage to catch who though.” Arthur informed him then took a large bite of his sandwich, humming appreciatively.

Severus scoffed from his far corner. “Hardly a revelation, the goblins buy and sell land every day of the week.”

“Not like this I don’t think. I wasn’t able to glean much, but supposedly the amount of land is quite significant and located outside Great Britain,” Arthur rebutted, “Something in the vicinity of sixty-eight thousand square kilometres. Or at least that’s what was going around.”

Around the room multiple sets of eyebrows shot up.

“You’re right, that is pretty significant. Any clue as to who made the purchase?” Remus asked curiously, running through numbers in his head. “For that much land...the sale price must have been millions if not billions of galleons.”

Arthur shook his head as he swallowed his mouthful. “None yet, there was no mention of the buyers identity.”

Severus hummed thoughtfully. “It had to be on the report. Any sale over a certain amount must by law be registered with the Ministry for the purpose of investigating possible fraud and the like.”

“Do you think there is any chance of getting a look at the record, Arthur?” Albus asked the man beside him quietly as a thought occurred to him. “There aren’t very many businesses or people for that matter that could afford such a purchase.”

Severus blinked slowly, dark eyes fixed on the older man. “If the report was made in Great Britain, it stands to reason that the person or persons that made the purchase are themselves British.” He reasoned, catching on quickly to the old headmasters train of thought. “Of the families there are only a handful that could afford it. Malfoy, Lestrange, Black, Potter and maybe Longbottom, though the latter is unlikely as the dowager Lady has spent an exorbitant amount in recent years trying to find a cure for her son and daughter-in-law.”

“Potter?” Minerva repeated, eyebrows raising then furrowing in confusion. “I wasn’t aware the estate was that vast.”

Albus offered her a small smile and pat to the back of her hand where it rested on the table near him. “Few people are, my dear. House Potter is very old blood and aside from marrying very well over the years, it has given birth to a great many very powerful or creative individuals. Potioneers, spell-crafters, professional duellers, and so on. Many of their labors are still bought and sold even today and a percentage of each sale goes directly to the Potter vault. Added to that is of course the investments the goblin account manager makes on behalf of House Potter and you get the picture of a rather mind boggling amount of money.”

“It helps that each generation of Potters tends to be fairly small in number and relatively frugal in their spending.” Remus added absently, thinking back on some of the old discussions he and his friends had had while sitting around the common room fire, talking about the differences between old Houses like the Potters and Blacks and newer ones like the Lupins. “They’ve never really liked showing off their wealth.”

“Quite so.” Albus agreed with a nod.

Molly made a small worried sound from where she had come to stand behind her husband. “You don’t think our Harry was the one who bought the land do you, Albus?” She asked quietly, small work weary hands coming up to grip Arthurs shoulders. “He’s just a boy.”

“I think it’s much too soon to say one way or the other, but he does indeed have the means. This is, unfortunately, the closest we have to a potential lead to young Harry’s location. It may simply be a strange coincidence, but better we check, just in case.” Albus explained gently. He attempted a small smile as an equally small bid to soothe and reassure, but even he could tell it was a bit on the wan side of things.

For all the things Harry and Sirius’ letters had said, there was a great deal of information missing from them. Where they actually were was the least of his concerns, realistically speaking. Whether they were actually safe had been, and still was, the more pressing concern. Given the strange uptick in tension and the whispers that had slowly started to spread, ones that had become so very familiar to him, the worry for the wellbeing of two of their own, especially young Harry was ratcheting up and up.

“Whether it was Potter or not, there’s been an increase in restlessness from certain members of the Dark Lords forces that managed to remain free after his fall. The Orders hunt for the boy has made them aware that he is no longer safely hidden and have, I believe, begun searches of their own.” Severus told them darkly, scowl firmly in place and a familiar sneer twitching at his thin pale lips. “If Weasley heard and recognised the significance of this new information, it will very likely mean others have as well.”

Remus frowned into his tea. “Then it’s a race to see who can dig up the right leads and get to Harry first.”

“Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well lovelies, what did you think?
> 
> We're rolling through progress, full steam ahead with the foundations of government in the works. Can't wait for the rest of the Weasley's to find out they're a Noble family in another country. XD  
> Though really, with Harry in charge, that shouldn't be very surprising.
> 
> We also got to see a little bit of the Order and how they've been dealing with the disappearance, which is to say, not well. But there's not much yet they could do about it, the abrupt sneaky exit being what it was.
> 
> A slightly shorter chapter this time, but it felt like a good place to come to a stop, so hopefully you're not too bothered by the shorter length. We're only about 1k short on the usual 7k word count goal I've been trying to keep to. Though admittedly I've been aiming for the 7k because I usually just run on and on and on. Which makes chapter consumption a bit tedious/awkward for some people.
> 
> Anywho, thank you for reading, please let me know what you think, each comment does help keep me on task which is nice since I usually get distracted so easily. So thanks for that, everyone.  
> Hope you're enjoying it! *salutes*


	9. The Colour of Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to school and a quiet reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, it's Monday again so you know what that means. 
> 
> This chapter thankfully didn't give me too many problems, which was a nice change over the last couple that wanted my to fight for almost every word. Which was so rude.  
> a little under 7k words for this one too, but it wrapped at a pretty good spot, so not too worried about that.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

#### August 21 1994 - Outside Little Star Primary School, Skyfall, Volstar Island.

Harry stared up at the large building with it’s bright and colourful exterior, it’s large circular flower shape design placed in the centre of its block of land ensuring that the ground level had ample space for a few trees and some grass and colourful flowerbeds. It was rather tall, stretching up higher than any of the other buildings that had been completed so far, aside from the main school, Starstrider Academy which was of equal height.

It had taken a little arguing back and forth over designs, but Harry had been rather adamant that the building be as fun and inviting to kids as possible. Even if some of the adults might consider it a bit of an eyesore at the moment since it was so very different from the kinds of buildings they had been used to. But Harry had pushed forward, describing his own primary school, a monstrosity of brick, mortar and metal that he could still remember looking up at on his first day and thinking how very intimidating it had been. Drab and dim and so much like what he had imagined a prison would be.

He had wanted the kids of this primary, the Little Stars, to feel a sense of wonder and excitement. To have their imagination grabbed by a smorgasbord of colours and patterns, and to never feel like they were being sentenced to school. Rather, that they were getting a chance for something amazing.

Which realistically, was what education was supposed to be all about.

A chance for something more and grander. For a bigger world full of adventures and wonderful things.

It was also entirely possible that he and Sirius had gone a little mad during their early planning of the school, throwing out every huge and wonderful thing they had wished for when they were smaller but had been denied.

There had been a lot of hugs and croaky voices that night, but it had been something truly wonderful that Harry knew he’d treasure the memory of for a very long time.

Staring up at the six levels he could see and thinking about the additional one below ground level that houses the schools storage and kitchens, Harry found he really didn’t want to fight down the smile that was starting to hurt his cheeks.

It was just after midday and construction had finished on both schools just the day before so now Harry was finally getting to tour the completed structures.

Shifting his green eyes from the building to the silent and wide eyed figure beside him. Sirius had demanded they tour the place together so he had taken a short nap after they had shared their customary breakfast together so that he would be alert enough to appreciate it. From the looks of it, the last of the tiredness had melted away leaving behind naught but awe.

“Wow.” Sirius breathed, storm coloured eyes darting from spot to spot, taking in the pops of vivid colours nestled amongst the buildings primarily white facade.

“It turned out even better than I thought it would.” Harry agreed, sweeping his eyes up over the tall structure with its rounded sections, pops of colour and many classroom balconies that would have plants growing on and over them to help keep nature in the city. “Open and friendly.”

“And a little bit mad.” Sirius threw back, grinning wide and bright at his godson.

“And a little bit mad.” Harry agreed again, just as easily, returning the older mans grin with one of his own. “It’s all open for the moment. Inside is all painted up, though there’s no furniture in place yet, so the tour will still require a bit of imagination. Reading to see it from the inside?”

Rather than answering back, Sirius took off for the wide wood and glass doors, pulling them open to dart inside and leaving Harry to quickly sprint to catch up. Drawing even with the older man once more Harry took a moment to take a brief moment to take in the bright and open reception area with its large windows before pressing forward into the curving hall of the first floor.

“Ok, so just like we planned, admission is set out as kids from the ages of five to ten. Each floor is dedicated to a specific year, so first years on the ground floor, second on second and so on.” Harry said, as they walked down the hall, peeking into rooms that would be furnished as staff rooms and class rooms. “I decided it would be best to keep the really young kids down here with the teachers so there’s less chance of them getting lost and more chance of finding a teacher if they needed help.”

Sirius hummed quietly as they walked, peeking into each and every room, despite the fact that they were by-and-large all empty husks at the moment. Though the doors had been painted different colours, no doubt so the small children could learn to seek out specific colours rather than being forced to rely on doors and halls that would all look vaguely similar. It was something Harry had wanted for both schools, a way to quickly tell what floor you were on and what rooms where what. His example had been the use of different coloured floor runners in the halls, to quickly tell what level of floor someone was on. Then used the example of a gold door for the headmasters office, silver doors for other faculty offices and then different colours assigned to different subjects. Blue for Transfiguration, violet for Charms, teal for Potions, and so on.

Remembering all the times he or someone else had gotten lost during that first year of Hogwarts, Sirius could definitely see the benefit.

“We’ve got things mostly structured the same on each level, with a few minor differences, aside from the furniture and fixtures growing in size to accommodate the growth of students each year. Each level has dorms for the students of that year, though boarding is optional for primary since while some parents might struggle with balancing work and childcare and might be thankful for the service that will make sure the kids are fed and in bed at proper hours and have 24/7 access to a medi-witch in case they get sick unexpectedly. Other parents, or their kids for that matter, might not be ready to spend so much time away from home.

“I’ve put a note aside to recommend that the school be open every Saturday for parents who want to visit and check up on their kids, which I’m hoping will help dull any separation anxiety. For the kids and the parents.”

The animagus nodded. “Probably best to do it that way, so the kids can get slowly used to the distance. Less trouble come secondary studies.”

“That’s the hope.” Harry accepted, leading the way up the staircase to the second floor. “There’s libraries and play areas on each level, geared to each levels age range. The libraries will have both study and recreational books and the play areas are all large wizard-spaces with toys, play equipment and a little child sized quidditch pitch, complete with those kid brooms that only get about a foot off the ground.”

Sirius hummed happily. “Is it odd that I’m starting to feel a little jealous?”

Harry huffed a laugh and shook his head. “I don’t know, but I kind of am too.”

The older man shot him a grin and stuck his head in a somewhat large doorway to take in the larger than normal space inside and took a moment to reason that it was likely a library space since it didn’t appear to be as big as his godson had made the play areas sound. “What did you end up deciding on for the subjects the kids’ll learn?” He asked curiously as he moved on. “You were still tossing that around a bit when we finished our discussion.”

“Right, I had a chat with a few of the others too to get a bit more perspective.” Harry explained while they moved about. “Maths for everyday stuff and a way to get them more familiar with equations for stuff like Arithmancy. Literacy to make sure they all know how to read and know how to write with a pen and a quill. History and Geography. The Arts will cover everything from arts and crafts to music and dance, since balls are apparently a thing people do still.”

Sirius snickered at the look on the teens face and reached out to pat him on the back. “Much more than you’d think, if you include in all the old holidays and traditional festivities.”

“Well, I don’t want anyone to feel like they can’t celebrate their cultures. I guess I’ll need to read up about them more and figure out how to incorporate them.” He sighed, reaching up to rub at his wild hair.

Steadily the two of them moved through the halls and up another set of stairs as they came to them, taking them up to the third floor where the great hall was located which, Harry quietly pointed out, would be used for meals and school assembly.

“I also decided to add in Cooking for years four and up as a kind of precursor for Potions. So they can learn how to divide up and prepare ingredients and clean up prep surfaces and stuff like that.” Harry went on to explain. “Then it’s just Physical Education. That’s probably the broadest subject since it’ll cover everything from swimming lessons, introduction to brooms, basic health and anatomy, nutrition and mental health. I figure if people started learning from a young age how to take care of themselves or at least notice when something was wrong, they’d have a better go of it as they got older.”

Sirius grimaced a little as a few thoughts popped to mind, considering his own family's misadventures with dubious mental health. “Probably not a bad idea.”

Harry gave the taller man a quick look before simply nodding his head and pressing on with the tour. Up and around, through vibrantly coloured a play spots and colour coded class rooms. Then down and down into the basement level which had been split up into storage rooms, a grand kitchen and a surprisingly large dormitory that Harry and Sirius had to duck to enter which was set aside solely for the house-elves that would assist in taking care of the school and it’s tiny students. When they were done and had cheerfully strolled the relatively short distance to the academy, Harry paused outside to take in the completed building, taking in the motto that sat proudly above the large entry doors of the rather modern looking stone and wood building.

> _Nam caelum possumus pervenire, et saltastis: et stellas._

_We can reach for the sky and dance with the stars._

Harry was particularly pleased with it. Tied in with the recurring theme of celestial bodies and full of hope and encouragement. He thought it set a better tone than some of his other ideas had.

He led the way inside and past the reception area where each year students would be given a student planner which along with allowing them to write out and keep track of their class schedule and assignments, also contained maps of each floor, a list with photographs of the staff so they could be recognised on sight and several other little bits and pieces that Harry thought would prove useful for students. Most of it just happened to be things either he or one of his fellow students back at Hogwarts - read: Hermione - had thought or complained about at some point.

As they walked and explored Harry explained the choices he had solidified. Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense, Arithmancy and Runes were, of course, set up as core classes since most professions and basic life skills where magic was concerned harkened to those deep subjects. But from there he had added Alchemy, Magical Creatures, Thread Magic, Warding, Magical Cultures, Mundane Studies and The Arts to the curriculum as elective classes that students could add on to their workload and delve into.

Information about all the classes and what they would involve and focus on would be available to parents and students from their first year at The Starstrider Academy, so students could put deep thought into the focus of their studies. Unlike Hogwarts though, elective classes started at first year and kept up all throughout the seven years students would live and learn at the academy in order for graduating students to hold a greater mastery of their chosen elective studies. Also in a move dissimilar would be the inclusion of a list of common professions and the corresponding fields of study that would be required to reach gainful employment. Something Hermione had been terribly upset to find lacking in their earliest years, stating that an earlier view of long term goals would have helped steer them in the right direction straight out of the gate. Particularly for children that hadn’t - for one reason or another - been raised inside a magical community, and therefore would be less familiar with many aspects of life.

The uniforms had been chosen to be light and airy in the warmer months, made of light linen and cotton, sleeveless shirts and robes, shorts and skirts and more relaxed foot wear in deference to the intense heat. The winter uniform was only slightly thicker, despite having long sleeves in comparison, since according to the goblins the coldest temperature their monitor teams had recorded on the island had been a surprisingly warm fifteen-degrees celsius. Which of course meant that they had well and truly left their white snowy winters behind.

A wealth of clubs had been drafted up to help keep kids entertained and socialising outside of their schoolwork during their time at the school and to add to that and the large in-door quidditch pitch, Harry had drafted up more playrooms that would evolve as years progressed into magical obstacle courses that would constantly shift and change to be constantly challenging and entertaining. The obstacle courses, in their final form, would also give sixth and seventh year students a pseudo auror experience, keeping them on their feet against dummy opponents and with teams to help teach cooperative casting.

It had been one of Sirius’ suggestions, based on some of the things he had experienced during his auror training, albeit more entertaining. The gauntlets would be monitored near constantly by the staff elves to make sure any mishaps were treated immediately. They would also be timed so the students could compete for top spot.

Needless to say, Harry had both loved and been envious of the idea at the same time.

Sirius had consoled his godson quite seriously with the reminder that the courses would all have to be rigorously tested, over and over. Just in case. For the kids safety.

Of course.

Eventually though the tours were done and they had gone their separate ways. Sirius went back to bed for a few more hours to help him stay alert during his night watch, and Harry went back to his office and the ritual he had requested a couple of his house-elves set up for him while he was away.

Scanning the normally empty space beside his large desk, Harry took in the carefully arranged candles, yellow to symbolise positivity, vigot, remembrance and imagination. The bounding lines that formed a barrier that would contain the power of the ritual, painstakingly painted out in dark blue for stability, integrity and calmness.

In carefully mapped out positions eight crystals sat in a circle, each resting at exact distance from each other. Each one set to represent a different magical energy. Air, Light, Fire, Darkness, Metal, Earth, Water and Plasma. Primary forces that would each lend natural power into the casting. Each crystal resting lightly upon small purple cushions that had been chosen to represent wisdom, vision and magic.

Lastly in the center of the circle the cushion grey for itelligence, maturity and security. The elves had been sewing the required runes into it when he had left to give Sirius the tour of the schools. Now it was done and waiting for him and he couldn’t help the small shiver of excitement at the thought of performing his first solo ritual. He had found it in one of the books that had been part of the Black library, which Sirius had lent to him shortly after the teen had done the rituals with the goblins to take possession of the protective shroud that hid the island and the one to ground it in the warding stones that had been constructed, tied to the warding matrix then buried or elevated at carefully planned intervals throughout Skyfall.

To say that the experience had awoken a curiosity for other rituals and formalised spellwork would have been an understatement of rather laughable levels. He had torn through every book they had that he could get his hands on, pouring over their lessons and their careful instructions during any free moment he could find. Unfortunately before long he had found himself forgetting just as much as he was reading and his studies had slowed considerably in the last few days.

Until the previous evening.

The ritual itself was relatively simple to perform, being equal parts meditation, casting and prayer to ancient forces. It had, Harry thought, some interesting limitations. Such as only being functional for those who had not come of age, since the mind had to be malleable enough and open enough to let the magics take hold and expand and elevate the natural cognitive processes of the caster. The duration and effectiveness of the ritual's effects were reliant on the power of the caster, but during its effects it would facilitate the consumption and retention of knowledge.

When he had asked Sirius about the ritual, Sirius had told him that most pureblood children were expected to perform the ritual at least a couple times prior to heading off for Hogwarts. It was how they were educated for the most part. To perform the ritual then have intense sessions of study for the duration of the ritual, learning etiquette, history, languages, mathematics and more. The animagus had mentioned that it was how he himself had been educated as a child, forced to learn multiple languages and everything else a Heir would need to know to take on the position of Lord when the time came.

It did make him wonder then, if all the pureblood children did it, why Crabbe and Goyle had still been dumb as stumps.

Regardless, the ritual had been looked over and approved by both Sirius and Healer Graves, so he was free and clear to perform it and make use of its benefits to cram as much of his studies in as he could which in theory give him more time to explore and do everything else he needed to.

Satisfied that everything had been set up as required, Harry stripped off his socks and shoes and moved into the ritual circle, careful not to disturb anything. Easing himself down onto the rune embroidered cushion, with its markings for strength, analysis and rationality, imagination, common sense, knowledge, creativity, vision, understanding and wisdom. Intelligence, inspiration, awakening and a connection with the primordial forces of the world. All picked out and carefully balanced to make sure they would not conflict and undermine each other. 

That had been the hardest part, working with Sirius until well after midnight to have a crash course in runes and work Sirius’ memory to pick out the proper runes and their order, since some of them came from purely personal choice. Only half the runes were specifically specified as required for the ritual, the rest had to be picked out to fit the caster. They had to resonate and pull at mind and soul.

It had been an interesting lesson, one he planned to revisit after the ritual was complete.

Getting his legs crossed comfortably he ran the spell-chant through silently one final time before he lit the candles and settled in. He shifted his breathing, letting his mind relax and his worries and conscious thoughts slip away. Eventually he reached for his core, tapping it and letting his magic seep through him, cycling in time with his pulse and steady breaths. Gradually the pulsing became less guided and more natural and finally he began his chant in earnest.

Over and over in soft unmoored tones he called to powers beyond his awareness, beyond his current understanding, to the forces just out of reach. He prayed for understanding, for self and magic. For all the things that lay just out of reach and for a home in himself where wisdom and understanding would live.

By the time he came out of his ritual trance the room was dark, the candles having burned down to nothing, wicks long gone and yellow wax puddles solidified in their place. His neck and back ached something fierce as he twisted his body to peer at his office windows, taking in the stark darkness outside and the glittering wash of stars that could be seen in the night sky without the obstruction of light pollution. He took a moment while sitting, legs numb for being crossed for so long to contemplate the way he felt both exhausted but so utterly alert and aware all at once. His throat was sore and his lips and mouth both felt bone dry from the long hours of chanting but his breathing was still slow and steady, heart beating in unison.

Movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed at his attention and he turned his head to follow it despite the angry knot of muscles that were currently serving as his neck. “Sirius.” He whispered into the dark, though the whisper seemed as loud as a crack of thunder in the still silence.

“Here pup, take your time.” Came an answering whisper that seemed just as loud.

Breathing slowly Harry continued to take stock of himself as more and more of his awareness solidified under his conscious direction. Little by little he began to shift the muscles in his neck, back and arms, testing out the sluggish responses. By the time he had worked his way down to his still numb legs, he knew they would be a terrible agony when feeling started to return to them. The thought struck him as expected though he knew he hadn’t considered it before he had begun.

“My legs are very numb, I can’t feel them at all.” He whispered once he was sure. “I won’t be able to stand.”

Movement again from the couch he knew Sirius had been perched in, likely for several hours just waiting, and then Sirius was kneeling beside him. One arm wrapped around the center of his back to brace him and the other carefully wound its way down under his unfeeling legs to scoop them both up over his forearm before he slowly stood, carefully picking up Harry. “I’ve got you, pup.” The older man whispered, voice barely louder than a sigh, but still startlingly loud to Harry. “You’re going to be extremely sensitive for a while. Touch, magic, sound, light, smell...the works. Your mind is processing an increased flood of information in ways it isn’t usually able to and that takes some adjustment.”

“I remember.” Harry whispered back as he was carefully set down on the couch. He watched the older man crouch in front of him and reach for him, warm and calloused hands starting to gently massage his legs to encourage blood flow and sensation to return. “It’s one of the sacrifices you take on as payment, in exchange for the boon.”

Even in the dark Harry could clearly see the skin around his godfather's mouth crease as he smiled. “Exactly right. Every time you do a ritual like this you give in order to receive, a mirror for the ebb and flow of life and death. Change and growth. The infinite cycle of nature and power.”

“The pulse of the universe.” He whispered in quiet understanding, the pieces slotting together in his mind in a way that was vaguely foreign but all his own.

“Mhm.”

Harry contemplated the sensation of his own pulsing thoughts for a moment, wincing at the fierce wave of pins and needles that started to spread through his hips and legs. “How long will it last do you think?”

“The rituals effect? It’s hard to tell. For me personally it lasted a week.” Sirius replied as he continued to massage the teens legs. “For my brother it was about five days. For cousin Bella it was nine days. It varies a lot depending on the power of the kid performing the ritual and the depth of the response from the forces that answer the call. You’re much more powerful than I was at the same age and infinitely more powerful than I was when I performed the ritual myself. If I had to hazard a guess I’d say you’re probably looking at several months before you feel the need to rework the ritual.”

The teen hummed quietly, sinking further back into the cushions to ride out the pain in his legs while he let his mind wander a little, pondering what effects might be present if someone already naturally intellectually gifted like Hermione performed the ritual. It made for an interesting thought.

“Not sure how long the glow is going to last though.” Sirius added after a moment's pause.

Harry blinked and looked down at the other. “Glow?”

The animagus snorted, the thunderous sound quickly smothered. “Sorry, but yeah. Your eyes are glowing. Creepy and kind of pretty. Kind of greener too, if that makes sense, more intense.”

“Did your eyes glow?”

“Nope, that’s a Harry response.”

The teen frowned a little, turning his thoughts back and searching through his memory. “They didn’t glow when I did the other rituals.”

“No, they didn’t.” Sirius agreed. “Not sure what to make of it honestly. Here and there you can find stories about witches or wizards that glow with power. But again, stories. There’s no telling how much of that is real and how much is artistic flair.”

Harry hummed his acceptance, reaching with his own hands to keep massaging his thighs while Sirius moved down to his calves. “Maybe I’ll find something while I’m reading.”

“Possible, but you’re going to have to be stricter on your sleep pattern for a while. You’re going to be wracking up mental fatigue like no one's business while the boon is in effect. So it’s going to be even more important that you rest and let your mind rest.” Sirius warned, glancing back up to meet his own eyes, expression both determined and challenging. Well familiar with Harry’s ability to forget things like sleep and food if he got swept up in things that tickled his interest.

“I’ll try to remember.” Harry promised.

“You better. To use my own family as an example again, my brother actually rested like he was supposed to, got eight to twelve hours of sleep a night to compensate for the strain. I pushed it a bit, I rested but not as much as I should have, in hindsight.” Sirius told him quietly, lightly alluding to the varying degrees of mental stability between family members. “Cousin Bella refused to be told what to do, she threw herself into studying anything and everything she could get her hands on. Soaking up tome after tome in the Black library at the expense of rest.”

And everyone in wizarding Great Britain had _known_ how utterly mad she was. Brilliant, certainly. But mad.

Thinking over the differences between the three examples and recalling the things he and Sirius had talked about during quiet hours about family, Harry resolved himself to learn from the mistakes of others. Reaching out he set a hand on his godfather’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I promise I’ll take a break and rest as soon as I start to feel tired.”

“Thank you.” Sirius whispered back, storm grey eyes focused on his task. “It’s a little after three in the morning now, we should get you into bed so you can start fresh after a few hours rest.”

A small note of acceptance and Sirius was pushing himself to his feet and holding both hands out to help Harry up before one arm moved to wrap around the teens back and the other held onto one of his godsons’ smaller hands to give a bit of extra support while they slowly shuffled from couch to Harry’s private in-office suite. With some help from Sirius, Harry was able to crawl into the stupidly large but obscenely comfortable bed that had been made for him and pulled the light blanket up to his stomach. 

Despite the way his mind was buzzing, it didn’t take long at all for the teen to sink into sleep, aided along by gentle fingers brushing through his hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was an odd experience, waking up.

It felt rather like Harry’s mind was up and processing things even before the rest of his body was.

The minute clatter of plates and bowls being set out on his small dining table, the savory-sweet aroma of his breakfast. A quiet snap of fingers and a click from the direction of his armoire, the telltale sounds of one of the house-elves selecting his outfit for the day based on the readings of their weather magic.

He could feel the tingle of the magic, it’s earthy natural tone, dance across his skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

After a moment his body caught up with his mind and his eyes opened to take in first the soft creamy white ceiling above him before shifting to follow the movement coming up beside the bed. “Good morning, Hildegara.” He greeted the elf with a smile.

“Good morning, Master Potter.” Hildegara whispered back with a shy answering smile, cheeks rosy and carved wooden beads dancing in her hair as she bobbed a quick curtsey. “Hildy has set out Master Potter’s breakfast and clothes for the day. Food will wait until after shower.”

“Thank you, Hildegara.” He said as he pushed himself up, taking in the new beads. “A new courting gift, today.”

The little elf’s blush deepened, large blue eyes sparkling as she reached up to run the beads through her fingers. “Yes, sir. Aren’t they lovely?”

“Very.” The teen replied with a warm smile, pleased to see the elf so happy. “You’ll have the envy of all the other ladies at this rate, with such an attentive suitor.”

Little hands moved from beads to bright red cheeks and a soft squeak spilled into the air, an expression equal parts pleasure and embarrassment plain to see on the elfs small face.

Taking pity on the elf Harry pushed back his blanket and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, taking a moment to wiggle his toes and tense and relax the muscles in his legs. Finding no more than their normal responses he pushed himself up with a relieved sigh and moved to grab his fresh change of clothes. “Was anyone due in the office for a meeting this morning?”

“No meetings today, Master Potter. Nothing but rest today, Hildy checked.”

“Thanks, Hildegara.” He quietly called over his shoulder as he moved to the small attached ensuite, hearing the telltale pop of her departure before he had even left the bedroom proper.

An hour or so later, refreshed and relaxed from his shower and stomach happily full, Harry plucked the ritual book he had been reading from his side table and sank into one of the couches in his office. The remains from the previous night's ritual had been cleaned up, the cushions and crystals no doubt into storage for the next time he wanted them, and the melted wax and painted circles cleared away without a trace.

The old tome was very simply titled _**Basic Rituals for Self-Improvement**_ but Harry had found that it had contained a wealth of different rituals. Most of them had seemed as small and specific as the title of the book had suggested, but others, like the one he had performed the night before were relatively complex in their own way. 

For all that last night's ritual was usable only by children and adolescents, the rune knowledge and self awareness required to put it together and the patience to actually properly cast it were nothing to sneer at.

So eyes still aglow, Harry settled in, intent on rereading the entirety of the tome with his much improved cognitive abilities. Before long that book had been finished and another had taken its place. 

Then another.

And another.

Time passed without meaning while he absorbed word after word, greedily absorbing and memorizing each book in record time, only vaguely aware that he was eating and drinking as his house-elves directed him. It wasn’t until a large hand moved between his eyes and the page he had been reading, effectively blocking the view that he blinked and became aware of the room again.

And something a little more pressing.

“Loo!” He cried, all but throwing the book he had been holding as he launched himself out of his seat and making a mad dash to his suite and its attached bathroom, tripping over books and chased by deep barking laughter as he went.

His body’s essentials taken care of Harry sighed and made his way back into his office proper to find Sirius sprawled out where he had been sitting a moment ago flipping through the book he had tossed in his run. The animagus had apparently decided to dress down in the epitome of cool uncle fashion, slumming it in a pair of faded blue jeans and an old Queen tshirt. His usual outfit when the height of his plans was seeing how deeply he could meld his body to whatever comfortable surface he could find.

It was all that Harry needed to see to know the older man intended to keep himself close to Harry for the night.

“Sorry, must have been more focused than I thought.”

Sirius waved that away and swept out a hand to hit the spot beside him in a soft thwump. “I figured as much. Hey, thought you’d already read this one?” The man asked, eyes shifting to track the teens movement as he gingerly picked his way through the piles of books around the couch.

“I did, but I wanted to reread it post _Excitatio Mentis_ ritual to see if there was a difference in what I remembered.” The teen replied as he sank into the couch and let his body slump until he was half lying on the older man. “Same with the other books.”

“Oh?”

Harry hummed, face twisting up a bit. “Big difference, a lot of half or completely misremembered stuff. So I decided to reread everything I’ve read to memorise it properly. There’s so much that I just outright missed...I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, none of that.” Sirius snapped, frowning down at the teens head while he ditched the book in favour of wrapping an arm around his godson's shoulders while the other tugged at a strand of hair to make sure he had the teens attention. “You’re not stupid, not now, not ever. You’ve been throwing yourself at everything you can get your hands on since we got here without the benefit of allowing yourself to really study and memorise any of it. You’ve been dragged from one project to the next so fast I’m surprised you haven’t snapped something.”

“I guess, there’s so much I need to know…”

“And you’ll get there. Give yourself the benefit of a little patience pup, it’s not everyday a fourteen year old builds their own kingdom. Everyone else that’s done this sort of thing has had the benefit of experience and an alliance of wisemen and leaders that had their own experience leading people. I know we usually joke about it, but this is a massive thing you’re doing.” Sirius told him quietly, shifting his head to let his chin rest on the teens own head. “As much as the rest of us want to help and have experience in this area or that, none of us are leaders. None of us have to make the decisions that will affect the lives of everyone that lives here. You’ve got a lot on your shoulders, much more than the rest of us. You need to learn how to be kind to yourself.”

The teen was quiet for a long while, stewing over that. Eventually though he sighed and let himself melt into the sprawling hug. “I’ll try, not sure how.”

“Bit by bit.” The animagus said softly, using his bearded chin to ruffle the wild black hair beneath it. “For starters, the two of us are going to have something to eat, then we’ll have a chat about properly scheduling some rest periods for you. All these stuffy meetings and back to back study sessions can’t be good for you.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for chapter 09.
> 
> What did you think. Personally it does my old black heart good to see Sirius and Harry bonding and sharing quiet moments. They really needed someone in their lives that just accepted them, warts and all. 
> 
> Also, it's not just me having school envy right? I'm a little salty about my own boring as hell school experiences, you have no idea.


	10. Building Greener Futures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry shares a few thoughts and ideas with his build planning team over celebratory drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday Lovelies!
> 
> Not usually a cause for celebration, but a new Monday means a new chapter and today's no different.  
> Here's chapter 10 which originally didn't want to write itself, but eventually gave up the goods so thoroughly I overshot my usual 7k word goal and nearly smashed through 8k, despite efforts to keep it reigned in a bit.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

#### August 24th 1994 - King Harry’s Office, Volstar Ministry of Magic, Skyfall.

It had, all said and done, taken Harry only a couple of days to reread all the books he had read or at least started reading since they had arrived on Volstar. 

Reread them all and take notes, copious amounts of notes.

He had spent half of the time having his reading derailed by an influx of ideas based around the subject matter he was reading. It felt a little mad if he spent too long thinking about it.

The same amount of books had taken him weeks to slog through before he’d done the **Exitatio Mentis** ritual.

A lot of them had been a struggle to get through before, dry and filled with all sorts of double meanings and insinuations that hadn’t really led much of anywhere. Though, admittedly that may have just been just the political history and law tomes.

But the point was, it had taken him a few short days to plow through, absorb and _understand_ the information in a way he just _hadn’t_ before. And if he was being completely honest, it maybe scared him a little, just how big a difference there was. He knew -- despite all his relatives attempts to convey the otherwise -- that he wasn’t stupid, or even slow. His mind had always been quite sharp when it wasn’t being flipped upside down -- _**”You’re a wizard, Harry.”**_ \-- and he’d never been left wanting for witty comebacks, though he usually kept them to the safety of his own prickling mind to avoid the fallout that would almost always follow. He did quite well on his studies whenever he could be bothered to focus on them, because he frequently did have to make himself focus, he knew that. He got bored and distracted fairly easily with a lot of topics.

The things he found interesting though, oh those were brilliant. Bread and butter, simple.

Still, the moment he had finished with the boring stuff that he had needed to know to be King Harry, Sirius had suggested he take the rest of the evening to read some bits of fiction. To cleanse the palette he had said, while plopping a stack of books of mixed genres on the corner of his desk. The very opposite side to the long list of notes and revisions he planned to discuss with his lawyer, during their next meeting. The intention behind the pile was for him to have a selection to choose one or two books from.

Instead, he read them all.

He had read fantasy, drama, science fiction and even a flush inducing romance novel that Sirius wouldn’t admit had come from his collection. Muggle and Magical, he read both in equal measure and marveled more than a little at the worlds contained within them.

Particularly the science fiction ones. The imagination, the creativity behind the worlds and their plots was amazing to fourteen year old Harry Potter. He had loved reading _Brave New World_ and _Childhood’s End_ , had devoured the possibilities hidden in _Neuromancer_ , _The Moon is a Harsh Mistress_ and _I, Robot_. 

Post _The Ware Tetralogy_ he had been left struggling to process just what exactly had happened and what he was even feeling.

It had been a wonderful break.

And then he resumed his magical studies at a little past sun up this morning, breezing through charms and swallowing giant gulps of runes. Arithmancy and magical theory and more. He went from book to book, not bothering to focus on one particular area. Instead he simply picked up whatever happened to be next in the towering pile and flipped it open. It was just approaching dinner time and he had already scanned through and absorbed twenty, nearly twenty-one thick tomes full of spells and theory.

It hadn’t taken him long to realise that he didn’t need to slog through the books word for word. Instead all he had to do was quickly scan down a page then move onto the next. His eyes were seeing the whole page, even if his conscious focus had been on individual words. His brain was memorising everything it saw and storing it away to process and keep, mind making leaps without his conscious bidding to make connections between the new information. It sparked off ideas and conclusions in a way it never had before.

It was only the third day post ritual but the way he viewed the world felt irrevocably changed.

There were patterns now, thousands of them all over the place where there had only been discordant bits of information he only half noticed and paid attention to. Tiny strings that wove together to make up things that had been beyond him, beyond even his imagination. He had taken a break to eat his lunch the day before at the fountain and had realised with a small start, that he understood how it had all come together. When it had been constructed everyone had done their part, performed the task they had learned to do and had experience in. He had drawn up the rough design based on his idea, Mr. Bolder had crafted each stone block to such exact measurements that they fit together so seamlessly that it was impossible to tell by sight or touch where one stone ended and another began. Sirius had carved the runes into the small hidden parts of the fountain that would keep it clean and flowing without overflowing.

Most of it had gone over his head entirely, but now he _knew_ how each bit was done. He understood each step in the process and how they came together the way they had into a working piece.

Without seeking further clarification from either Sirius or Mr. Bolder.

And his eyes were still glowing.

There had been several bemused glances in his direction during lunch yesterday, since apparently they glowed brightly enough that the glow was still noticeable under the midday sun.

Still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure how he felt about that. Aside from annoyed that Sirius found it so amusing.

But that wasn’t really the point.

The point was that he had ideas. He had read -- or at least absorbed -- many wonderful things, and now...now he thought he might have an idea on how to make some of them a reality with magic.

Technomancy, one of the books had called it. A fusion of man made technology and natural harnessed magic.

A soft series of knocks at his office door shifted his attention up from the mastery level charm books he’d been rapidly making his way through to peer across the room at the large double doors. “Come in.”

One of the large white doors with its gilded constellations swung open and the familiar fiery head of Bill popped in. “You busy Harry?” Bill asked, eyes flicking over the mountain of books spread across the room. “We’ve finished the work on the hospital so we’re knocking off early today. The lot of us are having dinner at the pub to celebrate the completion of Stage One.”

Harry blinked, turning in his chair to peer out the leftmost window to where he could see the large form of the Glimmerbright Hospital. “Already done?”

“Aside from some of the furnishing and decorative stuff.” Bill reported, moving up to stand at the other side of the large book covered desk. “Healer Graves is going to move the medi-tent out to the second ring so it’ll be closer for any work injuries when we start building residential properties tomorrow.”

Swinging back around Harry took a moment to study the ginger, taking in the cheerful but somewhat worn out demeanor. “Actually what day is it...Wednesday. Instead of powering through, I think it’d be a good time for a couple days rest. Have everyone take the rest of the week off to rest and explore, they can start fresh on Monday,” Harry suggested, “What do you think?”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find anyone unhappy about a few days off work.” Bill answered with a crooked smile, shifting into a relaxed stance, hands finding their way into his pockets. “There’s even plenty enough to keep the work crews entertained while they kick back.”

Harry considered that for a moment before nodding and pushing to his feet, letting the book he’d been absorbing fall shut and instead reaching for his sketchbook. “I can run a few of the house and flat designs by everyone after dinner.”

“Got more already?” Bill inquired, turning to lead the way out of the office. “Old man Bolder is still muttering on about the last lot you showed him.”

The teen nodded, pulling the door shut behind him. “A few. I’m not sure how happy he is with them, really. There’s a lot of curve and sway and glass in these. I think they flow better, kind of let air and water flow over and around them better. You know, get plenty of natural light and stuff like that.”

“Huh, most buildings I’ve seen didn’t really flow much. Lots of straight lines.”

“Which makes them easier to build, particularly if you’re using things like brick and stone blocks.” Harry explained, glowing gaze flicking down to his sketchbook momentarily. “But we’ve got the advantage of being able to use magic to shape and reinforce our building materials. We can be more adventurous than muggles because we don’t need to focus on the same building rules. Where they have to follow strict guides based around basic physics, tensile and compressive strength of building materials. Not to mention how they do being exposed to the elements over long periods of time.”

Bill blinked down at the younger male, studying him intently as they approached the magic lift. “You’ve really been learning a lot the last week, haven’t you?” He asked, sounding a little amazed. “I remember when I did the ritual when I was little. Most of the things I studied were the basics; reading, writing, numbers, basic etiquette, stuff like that.”

Harry shrugged absently, stepping into the lift platform and holding the small gate open for Bill before tapping the symbol for the ground floor and grabbing one of the support rails. “I already know all the basic stuff, mostly. I needed to start with law, etiquette and politics since it’s kind of mandatory if you’re going to be a leader, I think. After that I knew the more I knew about architecture and just building in general would help since we’re doing so much of it, and we’re going to be doing it for a long time still.”

The lift dinged as it came to a complete stop seconds after taking off and they stepped out, only to pause when Bill did so he could turn back and study the elevator. “You know, I’ve only been in a few lifts but I don’t remember any of them being that smooth. For how fast that was, it barely felt like it was moving at all...I didn’t even need the handrail.”

The teen grinned up at the redhead and nudged him gently so they’d resume walking. “That’s something Sirius and I worked out. He told me that the lifts in the British Ministry were a bit like the Knight Bus. They’re quick, but they start and stop very abruptly and there’s nothing to really stop the force of motion from impacting on your body while the transportation is in motion.

“When I was learning architecture, I figured out pretty quickly that I needed to learn at least basic physics for structural engineering -- though really it was just easier to read everything I had than trying to find very specific bits -- so I read through the stuff books we had and it wasn’t a whole lot, but, it did explain things like inertia. Which is basically the reaction to motion or the lack of motion...well, a bit more than that really, but that’s the most basic description.”

“Not sure I’m following.” Bill admitted with a slight frown.

Harry paused to consider it a moment. “Did you play quidditch at Hogwarts?”

Immediately Bill nodded. “Chaser.”

“Right, so say you’re flying along on your broom, zooming around the field. You and your broom are moving in sync because your broom is moving at an at least semi-constant momentum. But say you’re flying along and someone jinxes your broom so it just suddenly stops flying. Your body still tries to continue moving because you’ve got momentum propelling you forward.” Harry explained, miming the motions with his hands.

“And that’s inertia?”

“Right. The tendency for an object to stay at rest or continue its state of motion.” The teen added. “When you used those other lifts, they felt really choppy or abrupt because there was nothing to either stop or at least minimise the effect of inertia. Sirius and I managed to nut out a way to soften the effects of inertia on transportation like the lifts, or anything really, without getting in the way of their actual movement. Or cause motion sickness, which apparently is something that can happen when your eyes process movement in your body without the physical sensation to go with it. So...yeah, just enough feeling to avoid motion sickness, but not so much that you get knocked on your arse whenever you need to use a lift.”

Bill stared at the teen out of the corner of his eye before sighing and shaking his head. “You know, I mean this in the best possible way, but the stuff you’ve been learning is kind of mental.”

Harry laughed despite himself, throwing the taller male a somewhat roguish smile that he might have learned from Sirius. “Probably. It’s a bit shocking the difference between the way I processed things before and now.”

“How many days in are you now?”

“This is the third, Sirius said the duration can vary a lot from caster to caster.” Harry answered, reaching out to hold open the entry door for the both of them. 

Outside the air was still quite hot, saved from being stifling by a mildly cooler breeze. The sky was a riot of colours, clouds dyed orange, purple and pinks as the sun slowly set over the horizon. The gentle sound of quietly splashing water from the large fountain in the circle centre blending soothingly into the background, mixing with the sound of conversation and cheerful laughter. Workers finishing up their clean up and making their way to Seeker’s Rest, just like Harry and Bill were. There hadn’t been any major problems so far, so almost every one of Volstar’s settlers were stuck in high spirits, almost to a man. There had been a few surprises, like the discovery of several occamy nests dotted around one of the forests, and the fact that the suspected drake living up in the mountains near the minotaurs had in fact been a juvenile hydra. Something that had caused quite a flurry, though since it seemed to both be on its own and didn’t seem to be inclined to leave its mountain cavern nest, they made the decision to keep their distance and just leave each to their own.

“Right, it depends a lot on how powerful the practitioner is that performs the ritual and how open they are to the gift.” Bill agreed easily, reaching up to run a hand through his long hair. “Depending on who you ask, they might also say that the strength of the gift you get back also ties in with fate and how closely tied your energies are to the forces that you call on for whatever ritual it is you’re doing.”

Harry turned that over additional pieces of information, letting his enhanced mind make the connections he normally wouldn’t arrive at. At least without more information and someone else to bounce his thoughts off of. “The interbreeding for blood purity. It’s a way to keep certain gifts and blessings to specific bloodlines, a way of hoarding power.”

“Got it in one. Though there’s a few other reasons a lot of the older families do it too besides that, but that’s the big one.” The ginger agreed quietly, making a face at the thought.

“Hm, the downside being the increase in birth defects and blood stagnation because of too many close line merges.” Harry murmured, shaking his head a little. “If the maths I did when I was planning out the scale for Skyfall is right, there’s probably about half a billion people spread out around the world with magic. That’s just the humans with magic, not the other magic beings that are close enough to us genetically that we can interbreed with, which in theory could increase the connection we have with the natural forces our magic ties us to..it’s not like we’re so lacking for potential mates that we need to sicken ourselves.”

Bill cast a smile down at the teen beside him, a small quirk to his lips that wasn’t particularly happy. “Yeah, but now you’re getting into the territory of old fashioned racial bigotry.”

That made Harry grumble under his breath as they slipped into the inn, a wash of coolness from charms that managed the ambient temperature in the building tickling across exposed skin. The interior of Seeker’s Rest was reasonably well lit by a multitude of chandeliers, their crystals helping to disperse their soft light throughout the dark wood interior. The entry housed a long reception desk that was staggered in height like a castle's crenellations so that the multiple work spaces alternated between human average height and goblin and house-elf average height so that it was easily accessible to any of the currently settled races.

The desk itself was situated between two winding staircases that lead up to the suites that could be hired by guests, though a good chunk of the ninety-eight rooms were currently occupied by the settlers until permanent domestic residences had been constructed. To the left and right of the stairs there were fairly large lifts to help guests get up and down the different levels. The left of the room housed a large doorway that led into a more formalised restaurant for the inns guests, while the right wall housed a similar large doorway that led to the inhouse pub.

And from the noise filtering through the noise suppression ward affixed to the doorway, it was also where the majority of Skyfall’s workers had already set themselves up for a night of celebration.

Just about all the seating in the pub was done up as booths, since it had been selected by popular vote as the most comfortable. A mix of dark leather and soft fabric cushions that had been charmed to extra comfort, though there were stools and table spaces spanning the side walls of the room for anyone that preferred that. The bar spanned the back wall, long enough for plenty of standing space for patrons to either mingle or place orders, and on the opposite wall there was a booth that had been set up to house the magic powered record player someone had brought with them. Much like the few portraits that were up on the walls had been brought over by witches and wizards that hadn’t wanted to leave them behind, but didn’t have anywhere permanent to set them up.

It was, Harry thought, a very cosy but very ‘hip’ kind of place. Though he had only been in it once before, inspecting the building after its shell had been completed. Needless to say it had only been an empty husk then, so he could quite happily enjoy the difference that the furnishings made to the large room.

The sounds of conversation and laughter were rife, and someone had set the record player to belt out an upbeat jazzy number. Harry could smell butterbeer among the savory scent of what appeared to be a choice of fish and chips and steak and veggies that people were balancing on their laps or the small tables each booth had.

Why they didn’t just eat in the restaurant then migrate into the pub after they were done eating, he really didn’t know.

A light jab in the side drew his attention back to Bill who had obviously spotted someone in a booth closer to the bar, if the lazy wave was anything to go by. “There’s Bolder and Payne, if you want to go over your designs I suggest buying them both a drink. It’ll stop ‘em from making a run for it.”

Harry tossed the older male a wry grin but nodded anyway and set off toward the bar, exchanging nods and waves with people as we went. A quick chat to the elf that had taken up station behind the bar left Harry walking away with a bottle of Firewhiskey, two bottles of butterbeer and a few tumblers floating behind him on a wooden tray. All sent along for ‘morale’ supposedly.

Not that Harry was going to ask too many questions.

Sidling up to the booth Bill had taken a seat at with Mr. Bolder and Mr. Payne, Harry swung the tray around to the small table in the middle of the booth. “I come bearing liquid gifts. Permission to intrude on your evening, gentlemen?”

Pausing long enough to take a look at the bottles and glasses on the tray Mr. Bolder snorted a laugh and gestured to an open spot. “Not a bad peace offering, as far as they go.”

“Bill suggested that it might not be a bad idea to get you too soggy to run if I wanted to share the new house designs with you.” Harry told him with his best shit-eating grin.

“Thanks, Weasley.” Jack snorted, reaching for the bottle and pouring out a couple fingers for himself and the older man beside him, dinner already finished and plates discarded.

Pantomiming tipping his hat, Bill smirked back and reached for one of the bottles of butterbeer.

“Well, whip them out then.” Mr. Bolder huffed, taking his own tumbler from Jack.

Flipping quickly to the first of his more recent architectural work he held it out to the older man who held the sketchbook comfortably between himself and the man beside him. A moment later the old man blinked. “These are proper plans.”

Harry shrugged. “I finished my architecture books day before yesterday.”

“I thought you started ‘em on Monday?” Jack queried.

“That was the day before yesterday.” Bill helpfully informed him, a rueful smile settling onto his features. “Our most accomplished Majesty performed the **Exitatio Mentis** on Sunday evening.”

Jack huffed a laugh. “And being an absolute gods wrath of madlad power probably means you’re gobbling up every bit of anything you read, right?” He asked, though in a tone that made it sound more like a statement.

Harry shrugged again. “Pretty much. I had to reread a lot of stuff to make sure I got it all, but yeah. I read a few books yesterday that gave me some pretty interesting ideas and I’m pretty sure I know how to make them work in the real world, with magic. But the layout of the structures and their composition is kind of important for energy flow...so new designs and layouts.”

Mr. Bolder shifted his sharp gaze away from the first layout to make sure he had Harry’s attention then pointed to a section. “Here, the layout of the stairs. Usually they’re situated in this sort of space to make the most use of it and because the area is structurally sound enough to support them…”

“Yeah, in Europe at least, that’s true. There was a section of the books that gave examples to different cultural influences to architecture, there’s this practice in parts of Asia though that kind of held onto certain practices that were in place before the Statute of Secrecy went up. They’re all geared towards harmonizing the energy of certain spaces; homes, offices, that sort of thing.” Harry explained, going on to point out the information he’d absorbed and built upon, describing the basics of Feng-Shui and the ways eastern architecture had evolved to accommodate it’s principles. “Then if we add some of our own more north-western works...for example runic arrays…”

Bill, being well learned in runes and protections put it together first. “Bloody hell...the entire house is a runic array. The walls are the lines in that form the runes, that’s why the room shapes are so different and the sizes of the rooms aren’t uniform. They literally spell out a giant array for purifying ambient energy.”

“They should, yeah. I mean, I ran through the numbers and did up a small scale model to test it out on and it seemed to work.” The teen told them with a shrug. “They can be expanded into wizard space after construction and it’ll still work, but the base shell needs to be structured just right, otherwise it’ll just be a house with a weird design.”

All three older men stared at him over the top of the sketchbook for a long drawn out moment, long enough for him to start feeling uncomfortable.

“What?” He grumbled, frowning at the blank expressions.

They exchanged a long weighted glance before almost as one they sighed and reached for their drinks.

“What?” He asked again, looking from one to the other for some kind of clue.

“Nevermind.” Mr. Bolder grumbled, suddenly looking much more tired than he had been. “Are all your new designs like this?”

Still frowning at them Harry bobbed his head a bit. “For the most part. There’s a few changes here and there but for the most part they all have the same concept behind them. Balancing energy, speeding healing...a bunch of positive effects. I mean, we’re magic, seemed kind of dumb for a house to just be a house.”

“Right, sure, okay...but what are these little things, these ‘node’s?” Jack asked, pointing out small boxes Harry had drawn into multiple places on the layouts.

“You know how the magic we use tends to not want to interact with muggle technology?” Harry asked, pausing a moment to take a long sip of his butterbeer.

Mr. Bolder raised his eyes from the house plan long enough to drain his glass, refill it and drain it again before he signed. “Should we assume you saw fit to do something totally simple like solve the blasted problem that’s been plaguing the magical world since the inception of modern technology?” He drawled, expression and tone all but dripping with sarcasm.

“Not...exactly.” The teen hedged, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious.

Bill studied the boy king for a long moment, thinking back on the stories he’d either heard from Harry since they’d arrived in Volstar or had been told in letters from his brothers or the odd letter from Ginny. Though admittedly her’s and Ron’s had primarily focused on Harry’s quidditch exploits, despite the fact that Ron was almost always front and center for Harry’s misadventures.

“How ‘not exactly’ are we talking, exactly.” The eldest Weasley son asked.

“It might never have actually been a problem to begin with?” Harry said with a wobbly grin, fingers fiddling in his lap.

The ginger glanced across at Jack and Mr. Bolder before glancing back at the teen. “Why don’t you run that by us?” He suggested.

“Slowly, like we’re idiots.” Jack added, getting a snort from the old man beside him.

Harry sat back in his spot, twirling his bottle of butterbeer around in his hand to give him something to fiddle with, even if it ended with the condensation from the bottle dripping onto his knees. It hadn’t been any one source of information that had led to the idea, or understanding. Though he wasn’t sure he could call it an understanding since he hadn’t had the time yet to properly test it out in more than a cursory manner. It was almost mostly theoretical at this point, though he had been confident enough that he could get it to work that he had included both the grounding device and the access nodes and relays into the plans he had drafted.

Technomancy, or at least the basic understanding behind it, as far as he had determined and theorised required a shake up and step to the left of what seemed to be common perception. Something that the magical world seemed to struggle with even in the day-to-day. Being able to explain in a way that would actually make sense and therefore be accepted...he knew it might be a bit of a hard ask.

Still…

“Okay...okay, when you do magic, what are you doing?” He started, shifting his glowing eyes from the dewey bottle to the three more experienced wizards.

Immediately they frowned at him.

“Magic.” Came the confused response from Jack.

“Yes, but what are you actually doing?” He pressed. “When you say the spell or wave your wand, what does the act of magic actually do?”

“If you do it right, you enforce your will on the world.” Mr. Bolder answered, frowning a little.

Harry nodded. “Right, but how?”

Silence met his question, and he gave them a little smile to try and take some of the frustration out of the non-answer.

“At its most basic form, the act of performing a feat of magic is best summed up as a person using their own innate energy to force an effect upon another body of energy.” Harry said slowly, watching their expressions as he talked. “Everything in existence is made up of energy and it’s all moving, jiggling, differently. The things that are the same jiggle the same, things that are different jiggle different. We use our magic, part of the energy that we have access to, to force something else to jiggle the way we want.”

Jack blinked at that, long and slow. “I think you just made it worse, mate.”

Harry sighed and set his butterbeer down to reach for his sketchbook, conjuring a stick of charcoal before flipping to a fresh page and setting to work to illustrate what he was trying to explain. “Right, so let's go over a brief example of the most common forms of magic and then go from there.”

At their slow nods he started writing and drawing out symbols for each form.

“Evocation is the act of calling on outside powers to enact a desired effect. We see this in ritual casting more than anything else but a lot of element orientated spells fall into this category as well, since we’re evoking or calling on the spirits of a certain element to take on a certain form or effect.” He said, listing out a handful of spells he had learned that fell into that category and received three easy nods back.

“Abjuration is the use of power, usually your own personal power, for protections, barriers, walls. This school gets taught most when you’re learning your defensive magic, but it can also team up with other schools to create multi-school spells. For example there’s a spell that’s used in hospitals that forms a barrier over delicate patients that blocks negative external energy or stimulus and promotes increased healing to the patient inside the barrier.”

More nods, slightly slower, but there nonetheless.

“Next up is Transmutation, or Transfiguration depending on where you’re from. Basically the act of exerting power to change one thing into another thing. We’ve been using a fair amount of it since we started building to modify, reshape or just outright change some of the building materials, right?”

“Right.” Mr. Bolder agreed.

Harry nodded slightly, remembering that transfiguration had been one of the older man's specialities. “Right. Up next there’s Conjuration, which is simply explained as the act of using power to either create or summon something, usually a specific item, like this stick of charcoal I’m writing with. It’s probably the most used and least understood ‘school’ of magic as far as I can tell.

“Then Divination, which seems almost as misunderstood as Conjuration. Divination at its heart is tied to _time_ more than any other school of focus. It covers information along a scope of when, using a reference of time as a kind of lodestone for the information the practitioner is seeking. It’s not just a case of looking into the future to see who’ll win the next quidditch match. The world as we perceive it is structured around four dimensions. X, Y, Z and Time. So forward and back, up and down, left and right and time. Without time nothing can move or be perceived unless it can operate outside of the dimension of time.

“Which for the record is extremely difficult, which is why the strongest time turners ever created could only manage to navigate a couple of days at most and there’s still a giant load of laws that need to be observed by most living creatures because our brains can’t handle the lack of order the dimension of time exerts over over our concept of reality.”

He paused here for a moment, looking up from his sketchbook to check on whether they were following along and sighed at the confused frowns. “Not really important, but suffice it to say that most people don’t have the aptitude to really study Divination and make the most of what that school can do.”

“...right.” Bill said quietly, still looking confused but pushing it aside to either discuss later or ponder himself.

“Enchantment is the school dedicated to using your power to affect a usually long running effect on a person or object. Bill, your dad's flying car is a product of enchantment, as an example. So are the brooms we fly on.” Harry said, relieved to see the confusion of a moment ago replaced with clarity at the use of common examples.

“Illusion is a little complicated, though it’s basically the use of your personal power to shroud certain pieces of knowledge. Yeah...that’s probably the easiest way to sum it up. It’s based on knowledge like Divination is based in time. Most people don’t really learn Illusion magic these days, but it was used a lot in the past to craft layers of protection through misdirection.”

He paused a moment while the three men nodded to take a mouthful of his drink, setting it down carefully so he wouldn’t knock it off the tray.

“Necromancy deals with life and its associated forces. Most famously it’s known for returning a small sliver of life to the dead, creating a group of entities that are labeled by most cultures as Undead. But its uses are actually a lot broader. Out of all the schools this one has probably the worst reputation because of misinformation, so a lot of people that study it aren’t even aware they’re studying it. Which is pretty bizarre if you think about it. Of the eight elements that make up energy falls into where magic is concerned, Necromancy falls into the domain of Light and Earth the most, since it’s a school with a primary focus on Life, Healing and Growth which fall into Light and Earth.”

“Necromancy, magic of the dead is actually magic of life. Sure.” Jack snarked at him, one eyebrow raised and expression deeply skeptical.

“That right there is what I’m talking about, the effect of misinformation on perception. But I’ll come back to that another day, maybe.” Harry told him with a shrug before pressing on. “When we’re doing magic we’ve got a certain aim in mind and studying these schools kind of teaches you how to guide your native energy to manipulate the energy of the world or a person or item into doing what you want. Using energy to change energy.

“When you learn to do things wandless or wordless, you’ve gotten so familiar with directing your energy that the assistance that the trained wand movements or the words that help direct your thoughts aren’t needed anymore. You know the feeling so when you want to do the thing you just do, it’s second nature, right?”

All three were frowning again.

“I guess, but what does that have to do with the technology thing?” Bill asked, back to being visibly confused.

“Technology runs on energy, specific forms of it. When we use magic on or too close to it it’s like trying to pet a waterfall backwards, to relatively powerful movements going in opposite directions.” Harry pointed out slowly, watching their faces as they frowned through that then almost as one blinked.

“You get a bloody big mess.” Jack blurted.

“Exactly, the energy muggle technology uses and the energy we use are both moving in opposite directions, completely opposite by province of nature. So when they meet they just crash into each other and cause a big chaotic mess of energy that’s all fighting which results in things just exploding at worst or fizzling out at best.” Harry agreed, doodling to opposing waves meeting. “The bits of muggle technology we’ve gotten to work for us are ones we’ve reworked to flow in tune with the natural directional current of our native energy. The wizarding wireless for example.”

Across the booth Bill sank back into his chair, drink forgotten as he stared at Harry a little incredulously. “You think we can mirror all muggle technology by reworking the flow of energy it works on.”

Harry nodded, then shrugged. “A little more complicated than that, but in essence, yeah. It’s energy core and intact would need to be different and that means understanding how each of those muggle machines work from the ground up if the plan is to just rework the items in question and create an array to harness and direct a certain kind of ambient energy. But in theory, just flat creation should actually be easier, since muggle technology is created with very specific laws of physics in mind, laws that we can side-step a bit.”

They sat in silence for a long while after Harry had fallen silent, each one turning over the information in their minds, contemplating the possibility that what Harry had said might be a real thing. What it meant for themselves, how much or little the information affected their own views and understanding of magic. The answer they each reached was that it changed very little for themselves, at least in the here and now. Anything that came later, if they decided to seek further study...well, that was later.

Eventually Mr. Bolder huffed and reached for the sketchbook again and started flipping backwards, going back to reviewing each of the new plans and their associated exterior mockup sketch. Absently he noted the rounded edges and curves, the way they blended into the few hard edges the exteriors had. Noted the larger than normal windows, some of which stretched from floor to ceiling, replacing traditional walls entirely to let in the most natural light. He also read over the small notations written out in block letters for what he knew was an attempt at legible handwriting, taking in the suggestions that the windows could be spelled to be opaque from one direction but completely crystal clear from the other in order to maintain privacy but still allow for what could amount to truly wonderful views.

He also noted the suggestion for balcony and rooftop gardens to help bring as much greenery and life into the city, something they had already started doing on the street level and on the few buildings they had already constructed. Not something he considered a bad idea since they were planning and constructing each building that it would need to be flexible but sturdy enough to endure or just straight shrug off earthquakes since they had volcanoes on and around the island.

Best yet, unlike Harry’s original plans and ideas that Matthew had had to edit and adjust quite a lot to make into actually feasible constructible designs. The boy king seemed to have truly learned and understood all the bits and bobs that went into building structures. He had made notes about construction materials and the way they reacted under pressure, how they endured the elements, how the look and feel of them could change over time. There were notes about supports that could be built into each building to allow it a certain flexibility that would let it sway with the movements of the earth so the materials didn’t crack and break and crumble into ruin.

Idly he recalled a muggle magazine the teen had shown him the week before that had had articles dedicated to architecture and building design. Vaguely he recalled an article that had been pointed out that talked about how the muggles in Japan were constantly upgrading their building practices because of the high earthquake activity in some parts of the country because of their own large volcano.

For a second and then a third time he went over the plans that had been drafted out in the relatively small sketchbook with an eye for detail that few really considered the proposed materials, construction ideas and the suggested spells that could be used to aid in each building's construction and longevity.

Eventually he flipped the sketchbook -- which was starting to look a little work around the edges from being carted around everywhere Harry went -- and handed it back. “If you get tired of being a king, you’ve probably got a pretty good shot as an architect.” He grumbled good naturedly.

Harry perked up despite himself and leaned forward in his seat, sketchbook held to his chest. “They’re okay?” He asked eagerly, bright eyes seeming to shine even brighter with his excitement.

Mr. Bolder huffed and reached for his discharged tumbler and poured himself another measure of Firewhiskey, topping up Jack’s as he went. “They’ll need to be done up properly on draft paper, one copy for the work sites, one for archive and one for a portfolio for residents to browse through to pick out which design they want. But yes, Potter, they’re okay.”

Elated that the fruits of his study and research had been accepted and met with approval from a master craftsman. “Wicked.” He grinned brightly, causing the others to snort a laugh and chuckle.

“Don’t get too full of yourself yet, you’re still going to need to come up with at least another ten or twenty designs for the family homes.” Mr. Bolder cut in before he could get too carried away with his excitement. “Same with the flats. People like to live in very different looking places, the more options they have to choose from the happier they’ll be that they’re building a house that best reflects them and their personalities.”

Harry bobbed his head, waving away the reminder. “I know. I’d planned to sketch up some more if this lot turned out okay. Safe for house-elf flats.”

“House-elf flats?” Bill repeated with a raised brow.

“Yeah. Little flats that elf families can live together if they want so they can live there and not be separated. They could sleep and share meals in their own homes as families and go to work wherever. Otherwise they’re all separated and split up all over the place.” He explained patiently, thinking back on the conversations he had had with several of his house-elves.

It had been pretty interesting, if a little upsetting, finding out that house-elves had used to live in busy little garden lush communities not entirely dissimilar to small human villages before it had become more commonplace for people to house their elves in the wizard homes they served instead. It had sounded very charming and really very magical to Harry, little elf villages where everyone helped to care for the gardens that provided the food that fed the entire community. Where they would dance and celebrate the turning of the seasons, meeting and building families organically like everyone else, instead of planned breeding programs to ‘encourage’ the passing on of certain desirable traits.

“The elves take up less space in general than humans do and their magic is stronger on average. I wanted to put three spires with flats and a couple of floors in each building for them to mingle and relax in shared spaces inside on decently sized parcels of land that can be kept lush and grassy and full of plants and gardens. Spiraling balconies so each flat can have a little garden of their own that will get plenty of sun. It wouldn’t be exactly the same as they used to live, but the reception to the idea was very positive...if a little wet.” He told them, shifting a little at the memory of the teary and snotty hugs. His trousers had been a gross mess.

Jack hummed thoughtfully. “If they’re elf homes, we’ll be wanting to build primarily with natural materials. The less processed, the better, given their stronger ties to nature.”

“Wood primarily, yeah.” Harry agreed easily. “I thought I could work in large windows or window-walls like some of the human geared house designs so they get as much sun and sky as they can. Hildegara told me that house-elves have their own kind of wizard space magic that they used to enlarge the insides of things, so as long as they have a decent space to start with they can make it bigger to accommodate their family size if they need to.”

Bill bobbed his head a little as he finished off the last of his butterbeer. “They’ll probably want to work their own protections on their buildings, though the structural runes probably shouldn’t interfere too much with their magics if at all.”

“Add to that the fact that if you’re planning to make these spires the same height as the human flats, we can squeeze more floors in. Realistically the floor to roof size requirements are half of what human buildings require, but building them at three-quarter height would give them more floors per building while still being comfortably sized.” Mr. Bolder added, scratching at one stubbled cheek while he turned the hypothetical plans over in his head.

“Right, I didn’t actually think of that bit, but it makes sense.” Harry admitted, adjusting his own mental plans to include the suggestion. “I’ll probably be spending all my time working over the next few days.”

The redhead snorted a laugh at that, giving the teen an amused look. “So a regular day for you while the rest of us have the rest of the week off then?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry settled back with his half-finished butterbeer and shrugged. “Just about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we doing?
> 
> Harry's still glowing and making mental leaps like nobody's business.
> 
> Btw, all of the sci-fi books Harry read are 100% legit books and I recommend each of them if you're in the mood for some old future-vision.  
> No Sirius this chapter, but some more Bill in exchange so Harry can deepen friendships with one of the only people that's near his age on Volstar. Lol.  
> Just as a reminder at this point in time Harry is 14 and Bill is sitting at a very mature 23 (until his birthday at the end of November) and aside from Harry, Bill is the youngest person among the settlers/expedition. The rest of the lot are at least in their mid-late thirties.
> 
> Anyhow, let me know what you think, some of you have had and shared some really interesting thoughts previously. A couple of you have even bullseye hit on a few of my own plans for certain things in the story or grazed by oh so close. It's been interesting to read your thoughts and responses. So I'll see you all in the comments until next Monday!
> 
> Peace out!


	11. Fallout and the consequences of Sitting Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus contemplates on whether he should just stop adding coffee to his morning whiskey while he digests the news. Hedwig crash lands and Sirius helps as much as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, Monday already.  
> We all know what that means (especially since you're obviously reading this), New chapter time.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that took the time to leave me their thoughts on the previous chapter, it was great fun reading through them all. #PlantBuddies became a thing, I also got to clarify a little here and there. Though mostly the comments and my responses were a whole lot of gushing...which now that I think about it kinda sounds like weird innuendo...
> 
> Anywho, on with Chapter 11!

#### 26th August 1994 - 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

Remus was sitting at the kitchen counter when the floo flared up and the familiar glittering embroidered robes of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore came swirling out. He himself was still dressed in his worn flannel pyjamas with their frayed hems and his equally ancient soot grey dressing gown. It had already gone half past eleven but after tossing and turning into the small hours from worry at the consistent lack of news, he had felt entitled to a little pyjama mopery.

It was weeks now since he’d found the letter and progress for information had been coming at a grinding, frustrating crawl.

On one hand he had been thankful since it meant that it was likely that Peter and any of his Death Eater allies that had escaped justice were likely just as hindered as they had been. But on the other, his best mate and young Harry -- both equally headstrong and gluttons for risky adventures -- were still far from home with who knows what protection, too far for him to be any help at any rate.

Oh they’d had meetings, discussing possible plans of action when any tiny titbit of information or rumor managed to come their way. They had an emergency meeting scheduled for the next day to discuss the surprise Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup final the day before, after everyone that had been there had time to be questioned and return home. Lick their wounds, in some cases.

The morning paper had been covered in a chaotic spread of eye-witness recountings and conjecture. Though glaring through it all was the absolute lack of a proper statement from the office of the Minister. Instead there’d been a small bit of wiffle-waffle about ‘rogue elements’ and ‘an in depth investigation’, but missing from it was any mention of Death Eaters or Voldemort or even You-Know-Who. Or any of the other titles or epithets the madman had been awarded since his rise to infamy.

All despite the picture some bold quidditch fan had taken of the Morsmordre cast into the smoke thick sky. There were very few people in the magical world that didn’t recognise it and what it stood for.

Staring into his coffee -- which might be just a tad Irish to mark the occasion -- he waited for Albus to take a seat beside him and nudged at the paper.

“Might be for the best that Harry’s elsewhere, with this going on. You know Arthur would have invited him along with one of the spare tickets.” He said quietly, feeling the lean muscles in his slumped back twitch with the unease that had settled on him through the reading.

“A small blessing perhaps.” The old headmaster agreed, sounding just as tired as Remus felt. “I have managed to make some headway on that front however.”

Remus blinked, straightening on his wobbly stool and doing his best to ignore the pops and cracks as his spine straightened. “You’ve found him?” He asked hopefully, suddenly wide awake. “You found Harry and Sirius?”

“I believe so. Provided the information broker I spoke with truly can be trusted.” Albus said, pushing the newspaper away from him like it had somehow personally offended him. “It would seem that our Harry is indeed the individual who purchased that rather large sum of land in the Mediterranean. It has been filed with Gringotts as independent sovereign soil with our industrious Mr. Potter in place as it’s King.”

“Harry?” Remus asked incredulously.

“So it seems.” Albus agreed with a little smile, amused despite himself at the turn of events. “He was not born for small adventures, it seems. Even beyond the interference of Dark Lords and their followers. At any rate, if my source was indeed correct, then the island is being hidden by goblin magic.”

Remus hummed quietly at that. “Powerful stuff. The goblins have always excelled at both combat and defensive magics.”

“Just so,” The older man agreed again. “I almost find myself hesitant to continue the search now. He should be relatively safe if the goblins continue to protect his fledgling kingdom...but I worry. There are so many unknowns at the moment and I fear we must start recruiting new members soon if we’re going to keep up and survive what’s coming.”

They both sank into thoughtful silence as their thoughts turned to the past and all the friends and fellow Order members they had lost to death, dismemberment or madness in the last war. They both knew there would be precious few willing or able to truly stand and fight should the worst come to pass and Voldemort returned in true terrifying horror.

“I’m not sure there’s even anyone left to recruit, Albus.” Remus whispered, staring down into his mug and wishing he’d added more whisky to it.

Beside him the old headmaster sighed, tone world weary and shoulders slumping under the weight of reality, of yet another war. “There are a few, here and there. The elder Weasley sons perhaps, and Alastors apprentice, the young witch he’s been mentoring. He’s told me she’s due to take for final examinations before the Yule break. A tad clumsy out of combat, but he says she’s fierce and determined.”

“We both know we’re going to need much more than a curse-breaker, a dragon wrangler and a baby auror.” Remus reminded him, though not unkindly.

“I know, my boy, I know.” Albus agreed solemnly, reaching up to give the younger man’s shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze. “We have time, I think. If the events to the previous evening are any bearing, the other side may just be as disorganised and ill equipped as we are. Apparently most of the Death Eaters opted to flee once the dark mark lit the sky.”

“Rather than stick around and get possibly caught, you mean?”

“Mm, a curious turn. A great amount of terror and disorder, but few true casualties.” The old man pointed out, the long bony fingers of one hand playing idly with his beard.

Remus turned slightly in his seat to study the older man's tired features, considering what they knew currently. “You think it was, what...a PR campaign?” He asked curiously. “Announce _His_ return to the masses?”

Taking in a great breath, Albus let it out in a tired huff. “Anything is possible at this point, but I believe so. They gain very little from it.”

“Not much beyond awareness.”

“Just so.” Albus agreed before calmly, if tiredly, climbing back to his feet with a sigh.

Considering the visit a moment Remus frowned and followed his old headmaster with what he recognised must look like a confused sort of frown. “Albus, why are you here?” He asked quietly. “Most of this could have waited ‘til the meeting this evening.”

Blinking a moment as he tried to recall, Albus eventually hummed and straightened, hands clasped idly before him. “Ah, thank you for reminding me. I’ve an appointment with the branch manager at Gringotts in Diagon Alley, and I hope to coax or barter the exact coordinates for this new country of Harry’s. Volstar, I believe they called it. I was hoping you would be amenable to a fact finding mission of sorts, to make the trip and see if you can’t determine just how safe young Harry and Sirius are. I worry it won’t be long before the Death Eaters, or worse, attempt the same.”

“And if they’re fine where they are?”

“Then at least they can be alerted to the possible threat. As long as Harry is safe, somewhere they cannot get to him, I have no objections to his finding a home elsewhere. Britain is not safe for him, has not been for a number of years. I would rather he be safe but far from here, than to be here but in grave danger.” The old wizard assured him then sighed tiredly but continued. 

“I had hoped he would find some manner of comfort and safety with the only family he had left, that failed to come to pass and I will carry that failure the rest of my days. I had considered a permanent refuge within Hogwarts walls, but that too proved to be unfeasible. There are too many secrets hiding in Hogwarts passages, too many ways someone with ill intentions can work their way in. As we’ve seen, over and over since Harry’s first year.”

Remus frowned but had to concede the point. “He could stay here, it’s well hidden under the fidelius now.”

“Unfortunately, all we must do is point to Sirius and Mr. Pettigrew and the possible fault is too much.” Albus pointed out, his own eyes darkening and his knuckles bleaching white under the weight of his displeasure and regrets. “The very real truth, my boy, is that before long nowhere in Britain will be safe. Not for young Harry...not for any of us.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

#### 27th August 1994 - The Fountain, Skyfall, Volstar

Harry hummed quietly as he listened to Bill talk, both hands wrapped precariously around his overflowing sandwich.

Lunch at the fountain had once again become a standard for Harry now that he had gotten used to the fact that parts of him glowed without end and now that everyone else had gotten used to it as well. Now that the story had gotten around and even the people that didn’t work as closely with him had gotten a chance to see the effect for themselves, things had settled down nicely.

The work crews in charge of construction were enjoying their first real break since they had all arrived and more than one had taken the time to introduce themselves and pass along their thanks for the breather. It left him with a rather warm feeling, knowing the decisions he was making were being appreciated.

Large or small.

It was one of the reasons the fountain side picnics had become a routine. It gave everyone a chance to approach him and have a chat or ask a question if they had one.

It also had become the site of a few unexpected lessons in a cornucopia of topics ranging from Magical Theory to basic cooking. There had been a few memorable debates as well, first on the subject of criminal law and immigration which seemed to be on a few peoples minds. Something he attributed to Sirius’ presence or their own personal run-ins with the law back in Britain, if the small tell tale signs of discomfort and nerves was anything to judge by.

Not that he was overly concerned, as long as a person hadn’t done anything too terrible he didn’t mind Volstar becoming a second chance for people who were determined to not repeat past mistakes.

Today though they were back to discussing theoretical applications for magic in construction, something that had come up quite a bit since he had revealed some of his architecture sketches a few days past. Both Madam Hubbard and Healer Graves had tracked him down to inquire about them, having heard some rumor or another. Both had inquired about the actual efficacy of three dimensional runic arrays and had conversed with him over tea about possible applications for their specific areas of expertise.

Not that he blamed either of them for their curiosity. Having a hospital whose very walls helped prevent infection or speed the healing process, or a greenhouse whose construction could actively ward off pestilence and speed healthy growth while maximising vitamin and minerals in the produce grown inside it...it was definitely something to consider.

At present Harry had been mainly focused on residential housing since that would facilitate the opening of their borders to more residents, each of whom would bring additional skills and talents with them. But they would need to build more hospitals, spaced out and in varying sizes to make sure the whole of the city would have adequate coverage. Particularly in the future when the city hit its maximum capacity and demand for certain necessities became higher.

They had gotten to experience their first storm the previous evening, a stifling hot and muggy thing that hadn’t dropped the temperature at all. But it had been an amazing sight, awe inspiring in its lightning and crackling thunder. 

It had also given them a chance to properly test out their sewer system for the first time since its construction. The whole thing was charmed and had complex runes carved throughout, automatically vanishing any non-living matter that made its way into it.

Something that had required very particular grates on the sewer entrances that would let water or leaves, general filth and branches through, but would not allow other items through at street level. So a child couldn’t lose a toy down into it, nor a person their keys or a piece of jewelry.

Now though, the sky was clear and the hot summer sun had completely dried away even the hints of rain left behind by the storm. 

“...can do that, then we could build more effective defensive outposts for observing the minotaurs or that hydra, or build an observation building in the volcanoes that scrub their own air and maintain a comfortable temperature without having to constantly reapply charms over and over.” Bill reasoned, hands moving as he spoke, expression impassioned as his ideas flowed.

“Exactly.” Harry agreed with a quick grin.

“We could build the greatest dragon sanctuary in the world,” Bill added with a grin, “Charlie’d be jealous enough to spit fire himself.”

Harry bopped his head, working on chewing and swallowing his mouthful before answering. “Could do, though I think we have enough things to worry about for the moment. I’d settle for making sure everyone has a house before I start worrying about dragons...though it would be pretty wicked.”

“Right?” The redhead laughed, finishing off the last of his own sandwich, which was much lighter on the fillings than Harry’s own thanks to the house-elves almost constantly overdoing things where Harry was concerned. “I still can’t get over the fact that almost every house design you’ve put forward has a pool in it.”

“It’s hot here.” Harry grumbled defensively. “People like swimming in the heat.”

The older man held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not judging, I think it’s cool. Not much access to swimming pools back in Britain, unless you’re counting ponds or muggle places.”

The teen nodded, relaxing again. “It’s good exercise and it's pretty fun. I don’t think wizards really have a lot of exercise options to help stay healthy. Was something Healer Graves was complaining about when I was laid out.”

“That’s pretty true, most are pretty lazy and just use potions for stuff like that, or play quidditch if they can.” Bill agreed, tilting his head back in thought. “When I was in Egypt there were a few things I noticed that were different, they did swim more, cos’ of the heat. But they stayed busier I think, compared to the average British...what’s that?”

“What?” Harry asked, turning his attention to follow the gingers focus.

Up in the sky was a blurred shape seemed to be rapidly descending in their direction. They sat staring at it until a more distinct form started to take shape and without warning Harry was leaping into action, sandwich and fillings going flying as he leapt to his feet, hand shooting into his bag to pull out his broom. Barely a pause to get seated properly before he was launching himself into the air.

Up and up he shot before making an abrupt spin in the air, drawing himself along parallel to the familiar white form. With careful ease he altered his speed to match Hedwig, keeping half his attention on the rapidly approaching ground, the other on his faithful bird as the continued to plummet. An arm shot out, looping around her to draw her body in close to his chest without breaking momentum, pulling up just in time to avoid messy contact with the ground. 

Hedwig held close he flew on so as not to stop suddenly and risk whiplash or worse, though he did gradually ease up on their speed until they had slowed to a leisurely glide. The easy speed and the long open road meant he had proper time to focus his attention on his clearly exhausted owl only to find she didn’t appear to be conscious any more.

Frowning in concern he considered what options he had available before recalling that his Healer did in fact have training as a veterinarian, though not as comprehensive as his human health knowledge. While Mr. Signh was their head specialist when it came to creature care, Harry knew at this time of day he would be busy in their animal paddocks in the Green Ring. Much farther away than he was willing to go when there was a closer option.

With that in mind he looped around and headed back to the town center where the hospital was proudly situated, knowing the man would likely still be there sorting through things. It took all of five minutes to find out that the man was camped out in his own office, hunched over his own sandwich. 

At the sight of Harry and Hedwig though he wiped his mouth and dusted the crumbs from his hands without complain and smoothly rose to his feet, rosewood wand making an appearance as he started in on his usual barrage of diagnostic spells both on Harry and Hedwig before settling almost all his attention on the owl.

“Exhaustion, a touch underfed and a very minor case of muscle strain in the wings.” He rattled off as he went. “I suppose there’s some form of explanation?”

Harry hummed quietly, lightly stroking the slightly dishevelled feathers beneath his fingers. “This is Hedwig. She’s my familiar.”

“Flew the whole way here, I take it. I don’t recall seeing her since we arrived.” Graves murmured as he took a step back.

“Yeah. We got separated before we made the jump.” The teen explained quietly.

Returning to his desk and his lunch Graves gave the teen a small smile. “Well she’ll recover just fine, seems she was clever enough to properly rest herself as much as she could. Still, try to keep her grounded for a week or so those worn muscles have time to sort themselves out. That along with proper meals and rest will see her sorted.”

Relaxing ever so slightly at the verdict Harry gave the healer a small answering smile. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Healer Graves told him. “I’ll pop in tomorrow after lunch to check on her if you like...and bring along a few books you might find interesting?”

Paused in the doorway, gently stroking Hedwig’s delicate feathers Harry turned that over in his head, tossing it up with the loose plans he already had in place for his super accelerated curriculum. 

On the one hand he wasn’t lacking for things to study, he had the apparently much famed Black family library to pour over once he finished with his basic studies. He had tests he needed to be able to take if and when he travelled in order to prove his ability to perform his assumed job, at least on an intellectual level. Learning medicine, human or otherwise wasn’t on his list of required reading as yet.

But on that note, neither had the fictional pieces Sirius had encouraged him to read.

And both he and Volstar would be benefiting from the ideas those stories had inspired in him.

“I’d like that.” He said softly, giving the older wizard a small smile. “If you have the time to stick around for a little bit we can go over the material.”

“Easily done. I’m not exactly swimming in patients at the moment.” Graves replied with an answering smile before turning back to his lunch. “If that’s it, I’d like to finish my lunch if you don’t mind?”

“Right, thanks for checking over Hedwig.”

Heading back out of the hospital with it’s combination of white stone and wood, and its different coloured wards and corresponding colourful ‘lanes’ marked into the floor to help guide feet where they needed to.

Harry watched the building around him, giving small awkward waves to the house-elves he passed that were popping in and out to drop off all manner of decoration and furnishing. They had already been at it a fair while, which was why the emergency department and the general reception were both well appointed with cheery plants and benches for guests and patients to use.

Hours later when Sirius came to find him for dinner, Harry was once more seated at his desk, books piled high and sketchbook filled to capacity, set aside and replaced with a fresh one that he was rapidly filling with more house plans and flat layouts. 

It almost felt like it was all he’d been doing lately. 

Just read and draw.

He had in fact planned to go out flying for a few hours after lunch, soar around a bit. Maybe go spend a couple hours at the beach, since he hadn’t gone back since the first time he had been out exploring. Before they’d discovered his disorientation while using magical travel was a result of a tiny tumor in his inner ear. He was clear for all forms of travel, Sirius himself having spent several hours teaching him how to apparate. He could fly or teleport himself anywhere he wanted to go on the island.

But he wasn’t.

He was behind a desk, making more plans. Reviewing the reports his team leaders were writing up for him about their progress and having them filed away in the Ministry archives.

He was having meetings with his lawyer, the very patient goblin Boulderoath. Discussing points of law.

He was sitting down with the Volstar goblin Chief, Goldhammer, to discuss both construction and possible alliances.

He was visiting the Green Ring to speak with Madam Hubbard and Mr. Signh to talk about the farms, both plant and animal.

He wasn’t out exploring and getting into daring do’s. And it rankled a little. Or maybe a lot.

Even knowing that everything he was doing was important and a little exciting because of what it would mean for everyone in the future, for the here and now...it was starting to wear at him.

“That’s an awfully serious face.”

Harry looked up from where he’d been focused on the top of his very busy looking desk to watch Sirius sink into a seat. “Hi Sirius.” The teen greeted with a small smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Just fine. What about you though, did something happen?” Sirius asked, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees.

“Not really, aside from Hedwig arriving. She’s pretty exhausted from the flight, so she’ll be resting for a few days but she’ll be fine.” The young king, echoed quietly by a soft chirrup of sound from Hedwig who was sitting on a tall perch behind him near one of the windows.

“Then what’s getting you down?” The older man asked, head cocked to one side in a decidedly canine fashion. “Your mum used to get the same long on her face when something was bothering her. True, it was usually James, but still, you’ve got the same expressive eyes...even if hers never actually glowed.”

Leaning back in his chair, Harry shrugged half heartedly, one hand reaching up to run through his wild hair. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“If it were nothing I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be bothering you. And just because you think something is stupid, it doesn’t deminish its ability to effect you.” Sirius reasoned, tone quiet and expression open and patient.

Harry was quiet for a long moment, turning that over before he took in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Bit by bit he started to talk, explaining the things he had been doing, explaining their importance. He talked about laws and farms, politics and construction. He talked about lunch at the fountain and about trips out to the Green Ring. Showed him the sketchbook full of plans and ideas.

Eventually he fell quiet again, slumping back into the high carved back of his chair and they sat in thoughtful but companionable silence.

“I think I know what the problem is.” Sirius volunteered eventually, sitting up a little straighter.

“What?”

“You have dinner with me and you’ve been going out to have lunch with Bill...what do you do for fun?”

“What?” Harry asked again, frowning in confusion.

“Fun. What have you been doing lately that’s actually fun?” Sirius repeated, leaning forward again, expression intent. “I know you enjoy the drawings you’ve been doing but they’re more work than fun at this point. You’ve been studying a lot...ridiculous amounts really. I know you were grounded for a while with your recovery, so you weren’t able to fly for a bit.”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, paused, then closed it again.

When _was_ the last time he’d actually had fun?

Sirius watched him for a long moment, obviously waiting for some form of answer. Eventually though when none was forthcoming he slapped his knees and pushed to his feet.

“Right, we’re fixing that. We Marauders are a lot of things, boring has never been one of them.” The man announced, impatiently waving Harry to his feet.

“I’m not boring!” Harry denied with a huff.

“No, just bored, which is just as bad.” Sirius shot back, sweeping around the desk to pull the teen out of his fancy seat and propel him towards the door. “Back later, Hedwig, mind the fort!”

A vaguely irritated sounding screech followed them out into the hall and Sirius wasted no time leading his godson down the small stretch of hall to the lifts. Bundling the small male onto it then selecting the floor that housed the Department of Law and Order.

The quick trip passed mostly in silence with Sirius ignoring Harry’s few questions and outright grinning back at the confused and slightly miffed looks that were directed at him.

As soon as the lift touched down at its destination the animagus nudged his godson back off the lift and down through the reception area and down winding halls. Eventually he brought them to a stop outside a large set of double doors that Harry remembered led into the halls that were to be used for auror training.

Passed the entry doors was a massive heavily charmed and warded space, round in shape that served as a staging area. Spread out from it were many hallways that were bracketed on both ends by doors that were just as heavily warded and charmed as the staging area was. Each hall was deeply inscribed with runes that would alert the stationed medics if someone travelling the hall was injured so they could be met with aid. They also recorded the general well being of the bodies heading in and quantified the information into stats that would be measured against the recordings that were taken as they travelled back out.

The idea had been to keep track of things like physical and magical stamina, and injuries sustained during drills. And it was one of the combined projects of both Sirius and Harry’s.

At the other end of those halls though was a riot of variety, with each coming out into a huge wizard space that was charmed to resemble different environments like forests or jungles, ancient ruins or an urban landscape. The idea being that auror missions, according to Sirius, could end up taking a team to some surprising and strange places. Places that the basic auror training that Sirius and James had gotten had in no way prepared them for.

So, to change that, they had created as many different scenarios as possible, from flash flooding to raging fires. From poachers in forests to back alley murders. It meant that a staggering amount of wizard space was required for all of it, something that had taken a great deal of effort and power to set up. The end result though, had been very impressive.

Especially when you could step into the jungle scenario room and feel the thick humid air, smell rich earth and taste the rain that dark clouds overhead seemed to promise.

The finished product had also heralded Harry’s first taste of Firewhiskey while they celebrated the feat.

He didn’t think he was much of a fan of the taste.

Or the burn.

But there were some more training options that were closer to the British standard. Like a firing range to practice aim, and much smaller rooms that contained a few training dummies and empty space for simpler live fire practice against moving targets. Each of the targets were spelled to fire back colour coded beams of harmless light to simulate combat spells, the speed and intensity of which would gradually increase with each successive round of ‘combat’.

The obstacle courses for the schools had been loosely based around the auror training grounds, but unlike the schools these training grounds came with a risk of real injury.

Hence the medic station situated in the staging room.

Leading the way into the first room, Sirius flapped a hand at the many doors that each lead off to different training areas.

“What you need, pup, is some excitement.” He announced confidently. “Too long spent behind a desk doing paperwork will drive a Potter mad.”

Harry regarded the other for a moment before looking around the room. 

It had been a few days since he’d been there, the last trip being the day before he had performed his first, and so far only, ritual. A sudden wave of curiosity started to itch away while he contemplated for a moment what possible improvements he could think up now with his increased awareness and knowledge. What he and Sirius had already done had been impressive enough, more than impressive if he really stopped to weigh it against the things everyone else seemed to be doing.

This project, it just felt like so much more.

“You want me to do auror training?” He asked, letting his confusion show freely on his face.

“No, well, you can if you want. Might be fun, especially with how well you take to defense and duelling.” Sirius replied, expression turning momentarily thoughtful. “Actually, keep that in mind, it wouldn’t hurt to have a more hands on knowledge of how auror investigations and the training goes. But that’s later.”

“Right?”

“For now, we’re going to borrow one of the combat rooms.” The animagus announced, gesturing off to one section of the large round staging area they were currently standing in. “You’ve been doing nothing but sitting and thinking for weeks. You need to let loose a bit, fire off some spells and vent a bit.”

“How will that help?” Harry asked, still feeling a touch confused.

Sirius reached over, settling a warm hand on either shoulder and leaning down a touch so their faces were closer and he could stare his godson in the eye. “You Harry, are absolutely ridiculous,” He continued over the teens indignant squark, “Harry, you’ve got too much energy, literally eye searing amounts of magic and you don’t do anything with it most days aside for a bit of fetch and carry.”

“So?”

The older man sighed. “Do you remember that conversation we had the other day, when you got stuck into the magic theory stuff, about ambient energy that could turn stagnant if it wasn’t moved or directed to a purpose?”

Harry frowned a little, thinking back on the conversation and making a small leap of logic. “You think the same happens to native magic.”

“I didn’t before, but I do now. I think that’s why you’re so out of sorts.” Sirius said quietly. “Without anything to do, your magic is just sitting still. Think of it like a pond, you magic is the water but you’re not draining it for anything so it just sits. Your body constantly tries to produce more, so you’ve got a small steady stream going in, but there’s nothing coming out. It’s festering and with the influx its starting to flood, spilling over, wearing at the parts of your mind that are subconsciously tied to your core.”

“So, I’m feeling frustrated and moody because I have too much magic?”

Sirius shrugged. “Approximately. That’s probably the most simplistic explanation, but I saw it pretty frequently in your dad. At Hogwarts and after. Too much time behind a desk, doing theory or paperwork used to drive him absolutely mental. I wasn’t much better, really. Always need to be doing something.”

“So what, I jump in a room, fire off against the training dummies for a bit?” 

“Try that for a bit, if it doesn’t help, we can try plan B.”

Harry raised a dark eyebrow at that, cocking his head to one side. “What’s plan B?”

“Nothing your mother would approve of.” Sirius replied with a wide, wolfish grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those moments, when you're not sure if someone is a good influence or if they're just being very subtle about being a terrible influence?  
> I kind of got that vibe off that last line from Sirius.
> 
> Fun Fact #1: I had to stop thrice while writing out this chapter because I got such a good/strong idea for something that I wanted to do later, while I was writing, that I had to pick up the nearest notebook and jot down the ideas before my brain let me get back to work on the chapter.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: I'm pretty sure my brain wants to implement the unrepentant lovechild of the Hunger Games & the Tri-Wizard Tournament....and a few other things if I'm being honest.
> 
> Fun Fact #3: Pretty sure I exist as an entity of pure Hype now. Just fyi.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought, there were a few things that popped up in this chapter that I wasn't sure would flow as well as I think they have. Whispers of foreshadow and cookie crumbs that may or may not lead into deeper dreads/adventures.
> 
> If you want to chat about A Place Apart or with other readers, you may do so via the Discord Channel: Metalduck Garden ( https://discord.gg/krhgMsM ) which was created 1st Sept. 2020.  
> I'll be haunting it near constantly, so if you have more thoughts/questions than you can comfortably put in the comments, you're free to use the Discord as well.
> 
> Peace out!


	12. The Unexpected Benefits of Equality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a meeting with Volstar's goblin chief and an unexpected visitor arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, happy Monday!
> 
> Welcome to the chapter that fought me every step of the way.  
> My personal angst and rage were real for this one. The ideas were there, as were the few bits of plotty goodness that needed to appear in it. The words however just refused to come.
> 
> But it's done now so you can all enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's been leaning comments and dropping kudos like they're hot. I truly appreciate each of them. :)

#### 1st September 1994 - King Harry’s Office, Ministry of Magic, Volstar

It was a little odd, or so Harry thought, sitting behind his desk going about his usual morning duties when at the same time the previous year he had been on his way back to Hogwarts for another year of educational mayhem.

He had woken with the sun as had become habit and shuffled around his suite, muttering a raspy 'good morning' to Hedwig as he went.

It hadn’t been until after he’d had his breakfast, showered and dressed for the day that he realised what day it was.

For the last few years the ritual of lugging around his trunk, plonking into a train carriage on the Hogwarts Express and whiling away the long trip between the bustling stations with sweets from the trolley spread between him and Ron. Sharing summer holiday stories and quiet deflections so he could avoid talking about his own summer.

Now his every day looked nothing like the life he had been living less than a full month ago.

He ate differently, slept differently, studied differently. He even showered differently, long hot showers or baths whenever he wanted them.

Probably most importantly, when he spoke now, people actually stopped and listened carefully to what he was saying. Taking in whatever he was telling them, asking questions and offering honest opinions and tokens of experience when asked. No one dismissed him because he was young.

It was an odd feeling, one he was sure would still throw him in the quiet moments for a long time to come.

And the things he knew now.

He had accumulated more knowledge in the past nine days -- ten technically if you were to count today -- and he, or at least the ritual was still going strong.

Sirius had said that its effects had lasted eight days for him when he had done it as a child. That the strength and length of the effects depended a lot on the power of the caster, their affinity to the base elements called and the strength of the bond between blood and spirit or deity that you prayed to. He also said it was exceedingly rare for someone Harry’s age to perform the ritual, though he didn’t have a concrete explanation as to why.

There had been suggestions of reasons, kids being either away at Hogwarts or being dragged around almost constantly over Yule or Summer break to do whatever political hobnobbing their parents thought was necessary. A belief that multiple castings would be a show of greed which would anger the family spirits. Concerns over mental stability when combining the strain of the rituals effects on top of everything that happened body and mind during puberty.

There had been quite a lot of them really and Harry had the distinct feeling that the reason was a combination of those factors and probably a couple more.

Harry himself was checked up on almost every day by Healer Graves for physical and mental checkups to make sure the strain of all the increased activity wasn’t having a negative impact on his health. He still wasn’t too sure though, whether that was a genuine possibility and concern, or just a precaution.

Either way he had plowed through almost all the books he and his godfather had purchased for the trip and was starting to make a noticeable dent in the Black library, which Sirius had finally decided to leave in chests -- that had been heavily modified with expanding charms -- is Harry’s office since it was secure enough. And to help facilitate the rapid pace Harry was absorbing the books.

Though one thing was becoming abundantly clear.

He was very rapidly running out of material thanks to his absorbing one page in one second and honestly if it wasn’t so weirdly cool to him, it might have been a little scary...or terrifying.

But he was learning, more and faster than anyone he’d ever heard of.

Which brought him back to the first meeting of the day.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, glowing green eyes blinking rapidly in surprise.

“You need to learn how to fight.” Goldhammer repeated patiently, keen eyes focused on the teen, taking in his reactions. “So I, as goblin Chief of Volstar am offering you the chance to learn from my own warriors.”

“But why...I didn’t think...everything I’ve read so far says that goblins keep exclusively to themselves. There was a very brief mention about Godric Gryffindor being given the title Goblin Friend, but …” He trailed off, trying to organise his thoughts past the shock.

Goldhammer shrugged almost nonchalantly. “We do, however in light of the choices you have made to honor our people and our customs...beside that, it is also something of a political choice. The more powerful and skilled you appear to be, the more likely that other world powers will think twice about targeting these lands.”

Licking his lips in a subconsciously show of nerves, Harry shifted in his chair. “But the goblin nation has already done a lot. I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for your support.”

“You received the cooperation of our King and the rest of our people for that matter because you had resources we could use and because, despite being technically an adult in the eyes of the law thanks to assuming your place as Lord of your Ancient House, you are a child.”

Harry opened his mouth to question the relevance but was immediately cut off as Goldhammer set to explaining without verbal prompting.

“We goblins are fae blooded beings, young King. As such we have what you might call a certain fondness towards children, particularly children with strong ties to the hum and pulse of magic and nature. It’s in our nature to tease, play with, protect and even steal away children from unkind or ungrateful homes.” Goldhammer said calmly, expression remaining neutral as he spoke.

“For those children we welcome them to our halls, celebrate their bonds to nature and the magic within them. Some spend their lives playing in the depths of our Underhome, others, the strongest we sometimes teach so they can deepen their connections. Some even learn to shed their mortal flesh to dance eternally to mother magic’s pulse.” He continued, though his expression soured slightly. “We are forced by treaties to no longer spirit away the children that seek us out, unless mortal danger stalks close behind. Otherwise, Harry James Hyperion Potter, our King would have ordered you taken to dance, learn and play in the far depths of Underhome.”

Harry blinked, surprised despite his best attempts to reign in his reactions like he had been trying to teach himself to do. “Me?”

Goldhammer inclined his head, craggy features shifting deeper into displeasure. “Your magic pulses in time with the Mother. A rare thing indeed, especially among the human blooded. Your magic scent reeks of nature; fire smoke, green things, the crackle of natural energies, pure spring water and iron wrapped around spring breeze. You are an anomaly compared to most young that have been born into this world these last centuries.”

The teen shifted a little, fingers nervously dancing over the trailing stars carved into the arms of his chair. He almost expected the goblin to keep talking, but for the moment he appeared to be content to let him think over and process what he had been told so far.

Which Harry was thankful for, because it felt like a lot.

Like a lot, a lot.

Which in itself was weird, because it realistically wasn’t much information.

More than he had known previously about goblin culture, certainly. But it wasn’t really that that was tripping him up.

No, it was that other little titbit.

The goblins had known that he had not been treated well by the Dursleys. 

Known, and would have spirited him away if they could have.

Harry didn’t know what to do with that knowledge now that he had it.

The number of times he had tried when he was younger to let people know he was not being treated fairly, nor kindly. To seek out help or shelter somewhere away from number 4 Privet Drive. The times he had raised his voice to ask for help and instead had been punished. The times he had been hungry. The moment he learned that tears wouldn’t help him, at best, or would make things worse at worst.

That first time he had tried to run away when he had been six, just after he had started primary school. When he had been told to ask a teacher if he needed help. When he was locked away in a small dark cupboard again and again, surrounded by old boots, tools and odds and ends that belonged nowhere else.

When the closest thing he had to friends were the spiders that lived in the cupboard with him.

“I don’t know what to say.” He whispered eventually, green eyes focused on the desk and its piles of books and notebooks.

“We could not spirit you away Harry Potter. Lied to and shackled as we have been. But we could help you run if that was something you were already set on doing, harmed as you have been. In business, we goblins are still free to deal with anyone who will sit with us as equals.” Goldhammer murmured back, quiet but no less proud.

They sank back into silence for several long minutes while Harry’s thoughts spiralled and Goldhammer waited patiently for him to regain his bearings.

Eventually though Harry licked his lips and straightened in his fancy chair, shaking off the thoughts for further consideration some point in the future. Near future, more than likely.

“You said you’d like me to train with your warriors?” He queried, steering the conversation back to something he could focus on and do something about in the here and now.

“Yes, although ideally I would see you trained by Glimmertooth and Ruknukle. The skills you would learn from one of our hunters and a goblin warrior would serve you well going forward.” The goblin Chief told him, sharp nailed hands folded calmly over the arms of his own borrowed chair. “It will teach you to be self-sufficient should something untoward happen. A man, or boy, able to hunt his own meat, sniff out his own shelter and fight his own battles has little worry for anyone or anything else.”

“I don’t think I’ve met Ruknukle yet.” Harry said thoughtfully, turning the idea over in his head.

He had learned quite a lot from his books, even some about foraging, hunting and fishing. But he’d not had the chance to put that purely theoretical knowledge into any form of practice. After all, Glimmertooth oversaw the goblin hunting teams that handled their slow influx of wild game, Madam Hubbard oversaw their small team of crop farmers that were growing their fruits and vegetables. Mr. Singh and his small team were handling their animal farms which would eventually turn out another supply of fresh meat. And Tilander was directing the house-elf groups responsible for fishing and foraging.

There was no need for him to jump in and do any of that, unless he actively wanted to.

That said, the offer did have a lot of merit. And it would balance out the overwhelming amount of theoretical work he had been doing and it would help deepen the growing bond that had been developing between the humans and goblins of Volstar.

“You have not. As one of our strongest warriors he has stayed within the bounds of our hollows as out miners and builders carve them along with a group of others, in case we happen upon underground caverns that are home to unfriendly beasts.” Goldhammer explained, black eyes watching the teen as he thought.

“Won’t training me take him away from that?”

The goblin chief shrugged. “We’ve ceased expansion for the moment in order to focus on construction. This is the best period for your lessons, if you choose to accept the offer. Though you will need to learn our tongue. Since he very rarely ventures from goblin hollows he has not learned any of your human tongues.”

“And it’ll be a lot easier for me to properly learn from him if I can understand what he’s saying.” Harry finished.

“Indeed.”

“Where would I be learning, here or…?”

“The best way to learn a language is to be immersed in it, like an infant learning their first words. As such I am granting special authorisation for you to venture into our hollows along with access to the cyphers that will aid in the learning of our written words.” Goldhammer informed him, looking rather calm despite the enormity of what he and the other goblins by proxy were offering.

The goblins didn’t just let wizards learn their secrets. Not even their language. The few people that had managed to become even passingly fluent in it did so over long periods of trial and error. They were people that spent long hours in close contact with goblins, either working for or with them on frequent ventures.

Harry considered that it might just be because of his position as king of the island, or maybe because he was still technically a child. Either way, he knew enough about goblin culture and habits now to know that he was being given a very rare opportunity.

“When do we start?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

#### 19th September 1994 - Live Fire Room, Auror Training Hall, Ministry of Magic, Volstar

Most people given a few moments to gain a suitable idea as to what side was up and what was going on would likely say that determining the worst part of training in the Live Fire Room - once there were enough people for there to be recruits to train in said room - came down to a handful of options.

The first and most obvious was the roaring fire that was absolutely everywhere it could possibly be, enchanted fire that would burn constantly until the counter charm was cast upon it, it was utterly smothered or a modest lake worth of water was dumped on it.

The heat made the air unbearable, dry as dust and powerful enough to steal away all rational thought under pressure.

The second was all the smoke which choked the usable oxygen down to less than half what a person sitting idly would prefer. Even less than what was required for those who were engaged in intensely active actions. It also dampened visibility down to an eye burning near non-existent thing.

Third on the list was the terrain itself. It had been crafted to mimic a village under siege so there were numerous buildings in various states of repair. The ground was cracked and uneven, there was rubble everywhere. Some of the buildings were collapsed into the streets, impeding traffic and a trainees ability to navigate. It also meant there were hundreds of nooks and crannies that an enemy combatant could use to hide or prepare an ambush.

Of course, then there were the enemy combatants, either charmed and fire proof dummies that would be firing off who knew what at trainees or other dummies that served as stand ins for innocent bystanders. The same bystanders trainees would be required to safe and get to safety while under fire. Both figurative and literally.

If someone were to ask Harry, right in that moment, what the worst part of training in the current scenario he was in. The answer would come quick and clear.

It was Sirius.

Definitely, definitely, Sirius.

His godfather had used one of his missions during the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters to build the scenario room from the ground up. Every detail was one that he had memorised in soul quaking and exacting precision thanks to the dementors of Azkaban.

The mission had been to answer a crisis call that had been received by the Ministry almost a full hour after the attack had begun on the small muggle village. It had been cut off enough that there had almost been no word of the attack. There likely wouldn’t have been any at all if not for a muggbleborn that had been visiting home and who had managed to avoid detection long enough to raise the alarm. All the while desperately trying to hide their family.

The auror teams that had been dispatched had arrived too late to save the muggleborn, despite the Death Eaters taking their time to ‘play’ with their victims.

It was the raid where Bellatrix Black, not yet Bellatrix Lestrange, had really started to make a name for herself.

It was also the battle that made it obvious that the Ministry’s responses were far from good enough, causing the formation of several resistance cells to pop up across Great Britain.

The battle that called Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore away from Hogwarts and back onto the battlefield.

Sirius had decided that using his own nightmares to train others just might stop them from having some of their own.

It was a sentiment Harry found he could appreciate.

Or at least he would if he hadn’t been trying for over an hour now to neutralize his godfather who was having entirely too much fun playing the villain and sending dummies dancing about every which way so they’d have the best possible positions to fire on him.

Or maybe he was just starting to feel a little bit bitter.

Just a tad.

The point being that Sirius knew the area well. He knew where all the alleys were. Knew which buildings were ruined just enough to provide hidey holes and places for ambushes. Sirius knew where all the high ground was and had positioned the hostile dummies to the most annoyingly difficult effect.

Harry, with his bubble of sweet clear air wrapped around his face, was left trying to both put out fires and keep watch for - and subdue - the hostile dummies as he found them. Or as they found him, which seemed to be happening more often than the alternative.

To say nothing for all the victim dummies he was supposed to be checking for ‘survivors’.

Ideally an auror going into this kind of situation would be doing it with a whole team who’d all be able to watch each others’ back and help split tasks between them. But, Sirius had pointed out, more often than not when things were at their most chaotic, teams could end up split from each other. The unbridled disorder of front line combat would always, almost without fail, make a person lose track of everything. Including their own head if they weren’t especially careful. 

The very best of the aurors would train and run drills over and over again. Until procedure was second nature.

 _”Our training officer would make our group run them over and over ‘til we got them right.”_ Sirius had told the teen when explaining the drills. _”Lily though, your mum told us that he was an idiot. She told us to do them until we couldn’t get it wrong. Then she kicked our arses using the same drills we’d been practicing. Turns out, she’d been practicing too.”_

Harry shook off the thoughts while he used a charm to check an alley he was carefully approaching for movement. He was almost on top of it before the charm chimed back a positive detection. Wand at the ready, shield charm ready to go he ducked into the alley.

Near the end of the alley two hostile dummies were standing over a victim dummie, their ‘wands’ pointed down.

Without pause he fired off a couple of stunning spells at the hostiles and shot forward, quickly closing the distance between them. He watched one of them go down like its strings had been cut but noted the second managed to deflect the attack before returning fire with a bright red beam of light. Keeping forward while he maintained momentum he rapidly cast charms, jinxes, hexes and the odd curse, steadily pushing the remaining hostile back away from the victim on the floor.

The flurry of colours lit up the alley in a way that was almost dizzying as Harry moved, counting down each step he took until he had put himself between the hostile and the victim he was trying to protect. 

Eventually a spell got through and the dummy went down, crashing bonelessly against the alley wall.

He was about to turn back to the ‘victim’ he had saved when a strange sensation washed over him, tingling up his spine and settling in the back of his skull. It was so foreign and unsettling that it stole away his focus and he failed to notice Sirius slide into the mouth of the alley. At least until a shock of pain hit him in the back.

“No time for daydreaming, pup!” His godfather crowed.

Grimacing, both at the pain and the smugness he could hear in the older man's voice Harry shuffled around so he could face the man in question. “Ow.”

Grinning cheerfully, Sirius moved in closer, checking the teen over for any sign that he was having any unexpected negative reactions to the environment or the spell. “Can’t afford to stop moving in the field, pup. All it takes is a tiny moment of split focus and you or a team mate could go down and not get back up again.”

“I know. I do, I swear.” Harry promised him, stretching out his arms and flexing the muscles in his back to shake off the lingering sting. “I felt something weird.”

One of Sirius’ brows raised, even as he raised his ebony wand to cast the master counter-charm that would extinguish all the fires. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Close your eyes, focus on it.”

With a small sigh, Harry let his glowing green eyes slip closed as directed and turned his attention to the memory of feeling. It took him a few moments before he realised the odd sensation had a sort of after sensation that made him think almost immediately of a very specific place. Namely the landing point they had all arrived on for their initial trip to Volstar. The same one that was still in use, warded and designated a safe zone, so that if one of the teams was in danger they could apparate there and trigger the alarm wards so help would quickly follow.

Blinked his eyes open, the teen looked up at his godfather again. “The landing zone, I think what I felt was the wards going off.”

Sirius frowned slightly. “We better go take a look. I can’t remember any of the teams being scheduled on trips away from Skyfall today.”

“Right.”

“Remember, wand ready as soon as we touch down. We don’t know what we’re apparating into.” Sirius warned, waiting just long enough to see the teen nod before he disapparated.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself Harry pictured the spot he wanted to touch down in, slightly to the south of the landing point, focused on it.

Between one breath and the next he was there, standing beneath the blistering summer sun. His wand was in an easy ready position in front of him and stance similarly ready in the event that he needed to toss himself to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sirius standing, his own wand pointed at the figure standing hunched over in the middle of the landing field.

Frowning at the sudden sense of familiarity he got from the figure, Harry took a few striding steps closer, trusting Sirius to have his back. The closer he got the deeper the familiarity grew however, as he took in the washed out cloak and robes with their frayed edges. The similarly washed out and patched suit just visible under that immediately put a very specific person in mind, though he almost as quickly felt a wave of guilt for the thought.

After all, there had to be much more than one singular man with a wardrobe full of worn out clothes.

Harry almost jumped out of his skin at the loud squawk of surprise that came from Sirius. “Moony?!”

 _Oh good, not just me then._ Harry thought absently as he watched the figure raise their head, revealing the quite pale features of one Remus Lupin.

“I hate to be rude...but I don’t think I care for goblin transport.” The pale wizard wheezed, his own non-glowing green eyes flicking back and forth between Sirius and Harry.

“Professor Lupin, what on earth are you doing here?” Harry asked curiously, frowning a little in confusion while waiting for the man to get his breath back.

The man waved a hand vaguely at Sirius before finally managing to straighten, though he still looked quite pale from the journey. “You two. You just up and disappeared without a word, everyone’s been worried sick.”

“It wasn’t without a word, I left you a letter.” Sirius shot back, ebony wand disappearing back into his holster. “Didn’t you read it?”

“A letter. A letter, he says.” Remus muttered, snark readily audible in his voice. “You send a letter to ask a mate around for tea, not to let all your friends that you’re running away to make possibly shady deals and form a new country with a minor, Padfoot!”

“In my defense, you would have tried to talk me out of it.” Sirius shot back with an unconcerned shrug.

The one time defense professor made a rude noise at that, rolling his eyes and fixing his attention on Harry instead. “You’re alright though, Harry?”

“I’m fine, promise. There was a little bump just after we got here, but I’m doing really well.” Harry quickly assured him before a thought occurred to him. “Ah, professor, if you’re here to check on us...how were you going to get back to tell everyone else?”

“Professor Dumbledore crafted a portkey that would take me right back to Grimmauld Place.”

“Grimmauld Place?”

“My hideous house.” Sirius informed him, one hand reaching up to brush his hair out of his face where the light breeze had blown it. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

Harry nodded slowly, frowning. “Oh, right. But that wouldn’t work.”

Both older men turned to focus on Harry.

“What?” They asked in unison.

“Portkeys. The way the shrouding around the island works, you have to be standing under its influence when you create a portkey and tie a bit of the shroud into the portkey, otherwise it won’t be accepted by the shielding and it won’t allow travel through it. Not coming in, or going out.” Harry explained, head cocking to one side. “The goblins sent you, right?”

Remus nodded slowly.

“They left a grounding stone, that kind of acts like an anchor that they can hook onto and make a tunnel between two places. Gringotts and this field, specifically. They didn’t tell you it was a one way trip?” Harry asked.

“No.”

All three fell silent for a long, heavy moment before Harry sheathed his wand and huffed a sigh.

“I guess you’re here to stay a while. Welcome to Volstar, Professor Lupin.” The teen said, moving to cover some of the remaining distance between them since the older man seemed rather shocked. “Come on. First order is to get you checked out by Healer Graves, then we can give you a tour of Skyfall and get you set up in a room.”

“I’m alright, just...a little shocked I suppose.” Remus assured them quickly, straightening from his still slightly slumped position.

“Sure you are, but it’s policy Moony. Everyone gets checked out, no exceptions.” Sirius told him as he moved to take his place on the opposite side of Remus.

Harry nodded, leading the way away from the field and towards the nearby road that ran from the center of Skyfall all the way out to the outer edge of the Green Ring. “It’s to make sure none of us accidentally bring in a sickness from outside. And to check and make sure we aren’t sick with something we didn’t know we had. Like my tumor.”

“Your what?!” The werewolf exclaimed, attention flying around to look at Harry again, causing Sirius to quickly steady him as he stumbled.

With a small sigh Harry set about explaining as they walked, recounting the less than stellar reaction to the initial trip to Volstar and the rapid jumps to the medi-tent. The testing that had been done while he was still out and the treatment and recovery. 

By the time they had made it to the hospital, slowing their walk so Remus could take in all the completed buildings and discuss the designs and in turn the things Harry had been learning, Remus was well caught up and looking much more steady on his feet. By the time the three of them were sitting down for dinner in the Seekers Rest restaurant, the shell-shocked look was back again and seemed intent to stay.

They had toured through the hospital, down into the Full Moon rooms so Remus could acquaint himself with the rooms he’d be using for his transformation cycle. It had taken them nearly a full hour to move on from them with all the questions he had had. Most of them were geared towards the different protective measures that were in place to make sure someone inside did not get out while transformed. Also to make sure no one could accidentally wonder inside if the rooms were occupied.

Harry had answered each answer calmly, going over the many layers of charms, pointing out the rune arrays that were hidden behind their own layers of protections. He even locked Remus in so he could see the transformation the room would undergo during the three days it was active.

That one had been an after construction add-on. Something that had been surprising in its simplicity, or at least what Harry had seen as simple. Sirius had had some trouble getting his head around it.

Approximately an hour before sunset the rooms would both expand and transform, changing from the very sturdy bedroom-sitting room-bathroom combination to a river and forest, complete with running river and plants. Old trees that stretched high and wide sky beyond that would reflect the outside sky, just like the Great Hall at Hogwarts did. While the rooms were transformed the house-elves in charge of overseeing the rooms would transport live prey into the rooms for the wolves to hunt. An assortment of animals that were bred and raised specifically for the full moon, ranging from rabbits to elk.

The Remus that had come out of the rooms post demonstration had been wide eyed and speechless, so Sirius and Harry had quietly agreed to slowly amble to their next destination so the man could work his way through his thoughts.

They were halfway through their dinner when Remus finally managed to find his words again. Very quietly, almost so softly that Harry missed it, came the breathy, “Thank you.” 

And rather than respond in words, Harry lightly bumped his leg against the older man's under the table.

Some sentiments didn’t need words.

Caring was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, smaller than I'd prefer but with all the necessary bits I wanted/needed to include. So I can't complain too much.
> 
> But yay! Moony has arrived! And now he's stuck with them! rofl
> 
> Oh well, he needs a vacation.
> 
> For those of you with discord and interested, I put together a discord server part-way through the week. Metalduck Garden ( invite code: https://discord.gg/krhgMsM ) is up and running, set up for general chatting, fanfic recommendations and discussion for this fic (and any additional ones I pen later on). You can already find a few bits and pieces posted up for perusal, so if you're interested jump aboard, I lurk 24/7 so I'm available for questions/brainstorming.


	13. You've got Mail!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Remus' surprise arrival in Skyfall, Harry gets to sit down with him for a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday already?! 
> 
> Hello Lovelies, I hope you're all doing well.  
> This weeks chapter is a little shorter than I'd personally like, but I got to hit on a few points I needed to. So I'm still counting it as a win.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy some more wholesome moments while I get some sleep and then get to work on the next chapter where we'll be skipping ahead again a bit,
> 
> Happy reading!

#### 20th September 1994 - King Harry’s Office, Ministry of Magic, Volstar

Getting Remus up to speed on the many and various happenings of Volstar, and in particular Skyfall city, had been rather easy when all was said and done.

Sitting through the impromptu pop quiz he had decided to put Harry through in order to test his information retention after he had discovered the teens glowy eyes were a result of a somewhat infamous ritual…

Less so.

The test in itself was easy, a little startling in just how easy. But easy nevertheless.

Maintaining patience while Remus tried to dig up obscure bits of spellcraft searching for something to trip him up had been oddly intense. Harry liked to think he could be pretty patient, whether affronted rants from Hermione about this or that. Sitting by the fire and letting Ron unload at him about this or that quidditch thing or assignment woe. Draco bloody Malfoy who should come with his own hurricane warning sign.

The twins.

Although he could freely admit that the twins were far and away much easier to deal with than a lot of other people. He was almost tempted to say that he even got on better with the two of them than he did anyone else in his life.

Well, baring Sirius. 

He and Sirius just meshed together in a way that worked. Even if one of them were being particularly mental about something. Maybe especially when one of them was being mental about something.

They had had several rather noteworthy debates about everything from which position on a quidditch team was the most stressful, to what kind of fruit made for the best sweet snack.

The highlight was usually when they devolved into seeing which of them could think up the most colourful insult. Since that’s how a lot of their debates ended up. With them cussing at each other like drunken sailors.

Minus the booze.

But in the end the closest Remus got to tripping Harry up was by quizzing him on werewolf legislature, where Harry would state the laws of Volstar, rather than the ones of Wizarding Great Britain. Something he would point out to drive it in then watch Remus huff and try not to look too pleased when he realised how much thought Harry had put into them.

Not that Harry blamed him. It would probably be a fair while before his old professor got used to the idea that there was at least one place on Earth, that Remus -- Moony being, tweed wearing, book devouring, person -- would never be considered a second class being because of something outside of his control. That he had a place where he would be able to get and keep a job because the laws actually protected him for a change.

So when Harry had wandered off to get some sleep at the end of the night, he had left Sirius talking to a slightly withdrawn Remus. It left him with the feeling that he likely wouldn’t be seeing his old defense professor until closer to noon. But on the other hand it gave him plenty of time to finally go through all his notes, plans and ideas and consolidate them into a properly sorted system and not the haphazard mess that teetered on the edge of his desk.

He also needed to write a letter so he could test out an idea he’d had that morning over breakfast. If he could get it working then they would be able to get a sort of cycle for mail and small to mid sized shipping going between Skyfall and London Gringotts branch. It was all one-way transportation and their side at least wouldn’t handle live organisms just yet -- that would take a fair amount of tinkering -- but they’d at least be able to communicate and send off progress reports of construction and personal letters.

He was in the process of designing a mockup of the array, something that would come down to a blend of runic and ritual casting whenever something was sent off. From what he recalled of the goblin ritual hall beneath Gringotts they had used for the initial transportation, the system they used was much the same. Though he would need to do a fair amount of tinkering before he was confident enough in the methodology to branch out into point to point biological transference.

Theoretical or otherwise.

By the time he had finished sorting through his notes, plans and sketches, a rather tired and bleary eyed Remus had tracked him down and had seated himself on the opposite side of his desk. His scarred, work worn hands were curled around a tall mug of steaming tea and he was nibbling the sandwiches Hildegara had made for his very late breakfast.

They spent the time between his arrival and the consumption of his late breakfast in near silence. The soft sound of Harry’s quill moving over parchment -- as he used this early planning and array mockup to practice with it -- melding with the quiet morning bustle beyond the open windows and Hedwig’s occasional quiet chirrup.

Food consumed and looking much more alive Remus leaned forward, one patched elbow resting on the arm of his chair. “What are you working on?” He asked quietly, curious but seemingly hesitant to disrupt the peaceful quiet pocket they were sitting in.

“I had an idea this morning over breakfast that may speed up things. You know, about communicating with outside countries so no one else back in Britain decides to stop by and finds themselves stuck.” Harry explained quietly as he worked.

“Speed up how?”

“If I’m right, a one to one relay matrix that will enable us to use the array I’m putting together to send small items, like letters to a fixed point somewhere else. Ideally Gringotts in London.” The teen told him, self-inking quill moving in brisk, sure movement across the parchment.

“Really?” Remus asked, brows raised in surprise.

Harry hummed his affirmative as he worked, carefully marking out the runes he thought he would need in their specific quadrants. “You can come around the desk and watch if you like. Sirius does that sometimes when I’m working, so I’ve gotten a bit used to having someone lurking about.”

Without needing further invitation Remus leveraged himself up out of his seat and trotted around the large desk, coming to stand just beside the teens shoulder. “How long have you been drawing up your own original arrays?”

“Hmm, a few weeks I think. It’s pretty easy to lose track of the days at the moment, since we tend to mark everything by our construction schedule. I know it was...oh, maybe not.” Harry paused, lifting quill from parchment as he thought back a bit. “I did the _Exitatio Mentis_ in the early evening of the twenty-first of August. The first day I ended up spending just rereading everything I had read before doing the ritual. Day two was more reading, although all of that was new.”

He fell quiet again as he thought, working through the memories of the days and getting momentarily lost in how complete they were. How vivid.

“Late in the night on the twenty-third of August, which carried on into the twenty-fourth. I started drafting up building plans for houses and flats that used the walls as three dimensional stand-ins for inked lines of a runic array so the house itself would be the array.” He finally decided, nodding a little to himself. “I haven’t see or heard of anyone else doing that yet, and neither have the others. So I guess that would count as my first original arrays. So almost a full four weeks, I suppose.”

“Really?” Remus asked, blinking rapidly in shock. “I didn’t know you could do that with runes…?”

“I talked it over with Sirius when I was learning about runes. Most arrays are rather small, see, so their effect is directed outward. Each piece is positioned just right so they work together in their array to produce the desired effect. Kind of like bits of sound. This note and that note making a harmony.” Harry explained, gazing over his shoulder at the older man to make sure he was following along. “I theorised that if the runes their array were bigger they could be focused inward to direct their output into a more contained space. Jack, Mr. Bolder and Bill made me write it all down, so if you want you can read that to get a better idea.”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, made a face then huffed a sigh. “I’m not sure how much help that will be honestly. Runes were always Sirius’ forte, not mine.” He admitted wryly.

The teen hummed noncommittally at that. “Speaking of talents, what would you describe as your strengths?”

“My strengths?” The older man repeated, expression shifting back into confusion.

“Like you’re in a job interview. Everyone that’s here is working on something.” Harry explained patiently while he reached for his first notebook where he had made note of all the humans and their areas of expertise. “There’s so much that needs to be done, even though we’ve been making really terrific progress, but everyone works.”

“That’s fair.”

Harry hummed quietly. “That’s what I want. Fair as possible, for everyone. So skills. Sirius said that he’s good with combat magic, defense, runes and transfiguration. He also threw in that he had served a few years as an auror.”

Remus shifted to lean against the side of the desk. “Well, I’ve always done well with charms, arithmancy, defence, history & herbology. I’ve had a lot of different jobs since leaving school. Everything from store clerk to professor last year. There aren’t that many business owners that are comfortable with employing a werewolf, particularly since it means we need to take nearly a week off every month.”

Jotting down the information with the other notes he had made of the others. “You won’t have to worry about that too much here. Like I said last night, as a lycanthrope sufferer anyone that employs you while you’re here is required by law to give you five days off a month, minimum. How you use them is up to you. So if you think you need two days before the full moon then two days after, you can do that. Or if you only want one off before and the rest after so you have more time to recover, you can do that too.”

“It’s very generous.” The werewolf said softly, calloused fingers fiddling with the slightly frayed hem of his jacket.

“It’s basic decency. There’s laws in place to make sure new parents both get a month to welcome home their new additions and recover. There’s laws in place to make sure that people that are ill can take time off so they can recover and not infect everyone they work with, with whatever they’re sick with. There’s even laws in place to make sure people can observe their cultural holidays right.” Harry informed him pointedly, giving the older man his best unimpressed look. The one Sirius sometimes gets directed at him which he swears Harry inherited from Lily. “If we can do all that, it would be kind of shitty if we wouldn’t extend the same consideration for someone else in need of a little time.”

They sank into silence for a few minutes as Remus processed that and Harry went back to drafting his mail array. The teen kept his body tilted just enough to make sure the older man would be able to watch him work since the other had expressed an interest in observing. It was mostly done already, only requiring a few more signs to help stabilise the array and then anchors to lock down a destination point. 

“Why Uruz?” Remus asked quietly, staring down at the parchment, head cocked to one side.

“Depending on how you write out the runes in the array their meaning shifts, since each one means more than one thing. Right?”

“Yes, I remember that much at least.”

“Here, Uruz signifies action. Over here it stands for freedom and over here, energy. We pair this one with Ansuz and the action is grounded in communication and this space specifies a specific location that will need to be imprinted via memory infused crystal that will be charged with the adjoining ritual.” Harry explained, pointing out points in the array and their connective latticework.

Remus nodded vaguely before gesturing to the other two Harry had pointed out. “What about these other two.”

“This one is freedom tied in with Algiz which will be tied into the shroud around the island to open up a tiny pocket that will allow the passage of small matter.” The teen answered. “And this one, energy, will draw power to feed the array. Do you remember what those groupings within the array are called?”

Pausing a moment to think about it, the werewolf hummed thoughtfully. “Cascades, I think.”

“Yeah, because of the way they flow into each other. If they all balance and work together in harmony you get what amounts to a smooth flowing river. Discord between runes in the cascade will give you rapids or a dam. Cascade failures, or dams, will flow into the rest of the array. The worse the discord, the worse the fallout if you try to forcefully activate it.” Harry warned.

“I remember that part just fine.” The older man admitted wryly, one scarred hand moving to run through his hair. “Sirius was really the only one of us that took to runes. The rest of us had what our professor termed as a ‘worrying knack’ for setting out parchment on fire in class.”

Harry laughed at that, tipping his face up to grin up at the other. “Sirius may have mentioned some of that when he gave me a crash course before I did my ritual.”

“I bet he did.”

Still grinning Harry put the last touches on the array mockup before setting his quill aside. “So, I know about Sirius’ skill set and now yours. What about dad and Pettigrew?”

Settling back a little more in his position leaning against the desk, Remus crossed his arms over his chest while he mulled it over, emotions shifting across his scarred face. “Peter...he did well with Divination, not so much with some of it, but his card reading was pretty disturbingly accurate. Care of Magical Creatures as well, though he was afraid of most of the creatures the professor showed us. He did alright in transfiguration, not great, but he picked things up well enough if they were explained to him in a certain way.”

“Dad?” Harry prompted after a moment of silence.

“Prongs rampaged through potions and transfiguration. Picked up defense like a fish to water, which is part of why he had a spot among the aurors almost guaranteed right out of Hogwarts.” The older man huffed, remembering the almost unending gloating that had gone on once their N.E.W.T scores had come back.

“Now, your mother, Lily was an absolute beast for spellcraft. She excelled at almost everything she set her mind to. A lot of talent and drive to prove herself, but a lot of determination too. She’d work a problem over and over til she got it.” Remus added with a small proud smile. “She and old Madam Pince, the librarian, had their own cold war going on for quite a while. Since wherever Lily was, James would soon end up, making a racket and trying very badly to flirt with her.”

“Madam Pince?” Harry repeated with a surprised blink. “I think she might be a bit older than I thought she was.”

The older wizard hummed. “Most pureblooded witches and wizards are. There was a paper by Cantankerus Nott, that was released quite a while ago. It said it was because pureblood lines have a closer bond with their power and the primordial forces of nature. But it was largely suppositial in nature so not many people put stock in it.”

Harry frowned slightly, diving back through his memory when the name nudged at a memory. “Isn’t he the same guy that wrote ‘ _The Pure-Blood Directory_ ’?”

“He’s believed to have been. Though the book was somewhat famously published without a listed author.” Remus informed him, making a face. “It was very similar to other works he had published, both in tone and subject. The writing style was almost a match as well, so everyone just assumes that it was one of his and he was trying to make it seem like an unbiased independent study.”

“Think he missed the goal a bit. It’s one of the books in the Black library.” Harry explained, shifting to lean back comfortably in his chair. “I read it while I was looking into pre-existing methods for tracing family lines.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s for a side project. I was a bit curious, because I noticed that not many magical families keep family records. Muggles do it to keep track of illnesses that run in the family line so they can gauge the possibility of a family member being born with one or developing one later in life. They also use it to keep track of family comings and goings. Witches and Wizards...we really need a simpler way of saying that.” Harry muttered, cutting himself off with his own annoyance.

Remus hummed. “There is a term, popped up in America or France, I can’t recall. Wixen, plural or Wix singular. It’s used as a gender neutral term both to save time and to be more inclusive.”

“If there was already a word, why don’t more people use it?” The teen asked, face twisting up in confusion.

“It seems to depend on where you are really. It’s a relatively new term and members of the magical community as a whole regardless of locale, don’t tend to adopt new things very quickly.”

“Argh.”

The older man huffed a laugh at the teens frustration. “Another upside to your position, Harry, is that you set the tone for your community. If you behave admirably, then people will naturally want to emulate you.”

“So if I want people to adopt a new word…”

“Use it yourself first and frequently.” Remus agreed with a nod, rising from his spot to retake his chair on the other side of the table. “Other people will pick it up soon enough. Especially if you use it on your important documents too.”

Huffing a sigh, Harry scratched absently at a spot behind his ear. “I guess that’d be one of the easier non-tyrannical ways of doing it.”

“There’s an old saying; ‘half in jest, all in seriousness’ that comes to mind right about now.” Remus told him quietly, expression open and relaxed. “The closest you are to tyranny as far as I can tell, is your making it against the law to discriminate. Which is to say, not at all...you’ve already done wonderfully, Harry. “

“Thanks, I guess. I’m trying.” Harry replied quietly before taking a fortifying breath and pushed himself to sit up properly. “That aside, what do you say to signing on as my personal secretary. At least until we can open up for point to point transportation for people.”

Remus blinked, taken aback by the sudden offer. “Ah, What would my tasks include?”

“I need someone to help keep track of the meetings and appointments I’m supposed to be going to. I also need some help hunting down the research materials I need as I need them, since it’s rather difficult to stop working on a project entirely so I can hunt through the materials we’ve brought with us when I find out I need a little niche piece of information that I haven’t absorbed yet, because no one thought it was a good idea to consolidate current information.”

Harry grumbled, rattling off the tasks he’d most likely be performing for the foreseeable future if he took the job.

“I might also need you to be an extra pair of hands or a sounding board while I’m working, if that’s all right.” He added. “Sometimes it helps if I’m working through an idea to talk it out with someone. Usually Sirius or Bill or Mr. Bolder if it’s a construction thing. But they’re needed for their own jobs, and I’d rather they focus on their work since it’s all construction and security.”

The older man considered that for a long moment, turning the little bit of information he’d been given. Adding to it the small things he was picking up that the teen wasn’t saying. Weighing that against the reality that he would be stuck there for an unknown amount of time while they built their way towards being ready to open borders for immigration. Something he knew would probably be a fair while, even with the speed magicals could complete tasks.

Sighing softly he offered Lily’s boy, now a young man, a small smile. “When do I start?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Sirius tracked them down at his usual time, just before dinner, they had tinkered a little with Harry’s array. Which is to say that Harry tinkered and Remus watched over his shoulder while asking questions.

Regardless they got it working. And Harry insisted on calling it a team effort, since a couple of the older mans questions had made him realise he was overcomplicating the process. Something that had rendered Remus rather gobsmacked. But they got an array transferring things placed in an appropriately marked tray on Remus’ work desk into a corresponding tray on Harry’s desk.

Thus, Remus would review mail and the like and then pass along what was appropriate to Harry’s desk for his attention.

They had constructed a pigeon hole shelf with multiple trays, each one leading to a corresponding tray on an important persons desk, bypassing the general secretarial pool since anything that was placed in those pigeon holes would be coming from the Kings office specifically. A corresponding tray could be found on the desk of each department head, the Ministers desk, the goblin Chief, the head of each hospital and more. The ‘entangled’ pairs leaving them with a more secure transfer than what might otherwise be possible. Each pigeon hole and tray only being accessible from very specific points, by very specifically approved people cut down a fair bit on some commonly overlooked security risks.

But, the point was, they had gotten it working. Got it working and set up so that when Sirius found them in Goldhammer’s office in Gringotts, they were in the process of drafting letters back to Britain.

Remus, hunched over his letter to the old Headmaster who had requested he make the trip to begin with, looked up as Sirius’ familiar dark figure strolled in without a care. “Sirius, up already?”

“It’s about time. Though I managed to beat my alarm for a change, not the hangover though.”

The tawny man snorted and rolled his eyes, returning his attention back on his letter writing. “That’s because you went to sleep without drinking a glass of water, like an amateur.”

Gasping dramatically, Sirius’s hands rose to his chest to rest over his heart. “Oh Moony, you wound me.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

Goldhammer huffed behind his desk and Harry laughed outright at the bland reply as he sealed the envelope that contained a letter full of instructions and diagrams addressed to the head of Gringotts London Branch.

It was everything that would be needed to guide someone on the other side to putting together the pigeon hole setup on the opposite side. That way when news and mail needed to be passed on to Volstar, it could be run through a specific liaison office in Gringotts London.

Secure under goblin guard, and conveniently centralised.

Passing his first letter along to Goldhammer, Harry watched attentively as the goblin performed the much simplified ritual that would charge the array with power and smile as the envelope disappeared with a whispered whoosh.

That done he offered Goldhammer a quiet thank you in gobbledegook before settling back in his chair to wait for the return message that would let them know the system had been correctly set up. “Evening, Sirius.”

“How’s the day been, pup?” Sirius asked as he moved to sink into the last available seat.

“Mostly quiet. Construction teams got four more houses finished earlier this afternoon bringing the total to eight completed houses. The settler lottery pulled Rigel Ringtail, Claratyne Gilgarion, Julia Gallagher and Deidre Ryan from the list of people keen to settle as permanent residents. So they, plus Deidre’s husband Hamish will be moving into these ones.” Harry informed him, smiling happily.

Though he was frequently tempted to use the old adage that slow and steady won the race, there was no misconception that they were smashing through their previous projections for their construction times. They were absolutely flying ahead compared to how long the same amount of work would take mundane folk to achieve. They were even shooting ahead of the times the average major construction project would take in Wizarding Great Britain. At least according to Jack and Mr. Bolder.

It helped that the days, while hot, had been clear almost every day since their arrival. Added to that was the gungho attitude that was well felt amongst almost everyone, driving forward productivity and bolstered by each successfully completed build. The live music in the bar and restaurant each night courtesy of the charmed instruments some of Jack’s carpentry team had crafted in their off hours also helping to keep morale well buoyed.

“That’s what...nine people moved or in the process of moving into permanent housing. Considering we’ve only been at it about a month, we’re making good time.” Sirius commented, head tilted back as he thought. “Back in London it would take the same amount of time just to get someone in to do repairs.”

“You can’t really compare them, not properly.” Harry argued, shifting to face his godfather a little more directly. “Back in England, the number of people actually certified and qualified in construction is massively outnumbered by the amount of jobs that need doing. Added to that the difficulty in getting and moving around the amount of materials, or even just storing them in a secure warehouse where they won’t be noticed by mundane people...we just don’t have the kinds of problems that other worksites do.”

The Lord of House Black inclined his head a little, humming a soft noise of agreement. “That’s true, I guess. We’ve got a lot of work that needs doing, but there’s no rush on for it to be finished. It just happens to get finished quick anyway.”

“Because the workers are experienced, happy and have ready access to all the materials and tools they need to do their work. It all contributes.” The teen added.

A soft whump of sound drew their attention to the desk where a thick manilla envelope had just landed in the tray partnered to the one that had obviously just been set up in London.

“Speaking of quick.” Remus said, eyebrows raised.

“The instructions were very clear and easy to follow.” Goldhammer grumbled as he reached for the envelope that was marked for both Gringotts Skyfall Branch and the Royal House of Volstar. He checked it over before neatly slicing it open with a sharp nail then started putting its contents into piles on the desk.

Along with a couple letters addressed to either Harry, Sirius or Goldhammer. There were also several issues of the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, The Potioneers Periodical and The Magus Gazette - which Harry had fairly recently found out was an international newspaper thanks to Hermione - along with back issues to cover a decent period. From a month before they had left, right up to that mornings edition. Or at least the most recent.

“Oh, that was thoughtful.” Harry said, taking note of all the newspapers and magazines. “We can have them set out in the entrance of the Seekers Rest so people can read them when they sit down for tea.”

“Better yet, with a line for communication available now, your human settlers can write their friends and families and in doing so, garner word of mouth for other possible settlers.” Goldhammer pointed out calmly, opening his own letter and scanning through it. “There has already been some subtle inquiry from those that have heard of your purchase of the island.”

“Immediate family first, and anyone that needs the safe haven. Then close friends. At least until we’ve gotten the people who live here now housed, plus a few extra houses built.” The young King insisted, absently while he read through the letter Griphook had sent with an overview of his finances and the offer to have the remains of his vaults transferred to his Volstar vault.

“The crews working on the regular flats and the house-elf spires are making good progress.” Sirius pointed out.

Harry nodded. “I know. Half finished the first of each of them, according to the brief report I got along with the one for the completed houses earlier. I’d feel better if we had at least six regular apartment buildings done and had most of the house-elves homed in their own spires before we consider opening our borders.”

“Still, it’s a hell of a milestone.” Sirius insisted, flashing a rougish grin at his godson.

The teen beamed back in response, basking for a moment in the wave of warmth that washed through him at the thought. “Yeah... _progress_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet for this one, let me know what you thought. I love hearing from everyone, from the chunky review to the single happy heart. I cherish them all.
> 
> This past week has been pretty...urgh, when it comes to writing for me. Which you'd think I'd be used to by now, since the last few chapters have fought just as hard.
> 
> Oh well, I'm keeping at it and bit by bit the chapters keep coming together. Progress! *strikes valiant pose*
> 
> Ps. stop by on discord and make friends if you'd like (invite link = https://discord.gg/krhgMsM )


	14. I'm Sorry, What?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goblet of Fire spews out its chosen champions...and then plus one for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, Lovelies!
> 
> Happily this chapter decided to give itself up with minimal fuss.  
> We're pushing forward with our plot and I took the liberty to use one of the scenes to explain a little more regarding a few things one or two of you were unsure of.
> 
> So I hope you enjoy!

#### 31st October 1994 - The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

The cheers had finally quieted down and students of mixed age and nationality were turning back to the Halloween feast that had been well prepared by the Hogwarts house-elves, extra special to mark the occasion.

The air was full of rich aromas. Succulent meats, dripping sauce and the sweet scent of baked apples and pies. The sound of excited conversation as the children theorised on heroic tasks and daring do’s while their knives and forks, spoons and goblets clanged about.

Despite the lingering worries that had dogged his step since the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup months ago, Albus Dumbledore was relieved that thus far the school year had been entirely mundane. Or at least ordinary and completely without note.

If he were to discount the stir that had filled the halls for weeks after the start of the year when the students had noticed the conspicuous lack of a very specific student.

At first most had speculated upon his delayed return with the recounting of young Harry’s second year when he had broken all manner of rules by racing to Hogwarts via Arthur Weasleys’ flying Ford Anglia. Many had wondered if the late arrival would herald an even greater death defying -- and rule flouting - stunt. But time continued to trudge on, as it does, and still no sign of the wayward Mr. Potter.

Eventually parents or older family or friends had gotten wind of the same rumors Arthur had heard at the Ministry and had passed them on to the students. From there it was only inevitable, as with any news or gossip centered on young Harry, that it would spread like wildfire amongst the students until they were coming up with their own theories and made up bits of rumour and gossip.

As he did, Albus kept an ear to the ground and asked the Hogwarts portraits to take note of any particularly interesting titbits that made their way around the school's stone halls. He made note of each, partly to keep track in the event any real information made its way in via students with family members employed by the Ministry or Gringotts, or other such well connected sources. And partially so he could share the absurdities with Harry himself should he ever get the chance.

September had been mostly quiet at first, the first half passing with a rare kind of quiet that was rarely felt during the first month of the school year. Aside from the whispers in regards to young Harry and the slight melancholy that had touched young Ronald and Hermione anew when Miss Granger's birthday came and went, still without sight or word from their friend.

Remus had departed as planned the day after and though he had not been expected back for several days, long enough to assure young Mr. Potter’s wellbeing, what he had received instead had been a letter.

A letter delivered care of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Even less anticipated had been the news it contained of the protections in and around Volstar Island, which apparently was indeed rapidly shaping into a very respectable Kingdom in its own right.

He had counted on news.

He had not counted on losing Remus for an unknowable amount of time.

He also had not reckoned with young Harry discovering and performing the ancient _Exitatio Mentis_ in order to complete his formal education and more.

Not that he begrudged the young man his growth and discoveries. Certainly not.

He just wished he had thought of it himself. 

Very likely it could have been of great help to help the young man familiarise himself with the culture and history of the world he was rejoining early on and helped to give him a greater foundation to build his studies and friendships upon.

But what was done, was done. And the passage of time aside, they hardly had the means to oversee and safeguard the sanity of each Hogwarts student that would benefit from performing the ritual. If they could indeed manage to perform it correctly to begin with.

Shaking off those thoughts for later consumption, Albus turned to head back towards the staff door behind the professors table. Intent on thinking over the rather wordy letter he had received just after lunch detailing both the session of the International Confederation of Wizards he had missed that morning. The other piece of parchment that had come with it was an official notice, welcoming the sovereign island of Volstar into the confederation and noting in small print that their acceptance into the ICW would endure a period of two months with which to contest it.

Though rightly he knew it was merely a formality.

Which of course meant that Volstar was now an officially recognised monarchy and that young Harry Potter had been officially accepted as its reigning king.

So it might help to explain why he was distinctly unsurprised when he felt the Goblet’s fire and magic lurch behind him and the excited chatter of the students heightened before falling silent.

With a deep, weary sigh, Albus turned back towards the Goblet and deftly caught the small bit of paper that was fluttering its way through the air.

_Harry Potter_

Of course.

Feeling perhaps a little spiteful toward the world for the rather large migraine he had no doubt was rapidly approaching, and the sleep he would be losing over the next weeks, Albus very slowly turned back and made his way back up to the dias upon which the staff table sat. Elevated as it was to ensure the staff could watch over the hall and its students for signs of trouble.

Finally at the end of his very slow trek of thirty feet, Albus met Minerva’s eyes just long enough for her to clue in and huff a worried sigh of her own before he turned to face the hall at large. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have a moment of your time before you return to your delicious meal.” He requested despite not needing to.

Indeed he had the absolute attention of every soul within the Great Hall.

At another point in time he might have thought that such attention was flattering or unnerving in its intensity.

But he had spent too many years grieving to be swayed overmuch by the attention of others, especially such small others who had yet to truly taste the wonders the world could offer. Or its horrors.

“I hope you will all forgive me, but I had almost forgotten to share with you all some particularly momentous news. Yesterday afternoon the International Confederation of Wizards met and welcomed to its bosom a brand new magical country. For the first time in centuries a new magical community has been born.” He informed them, watching as a few of the more politically minded students whispered as quietly as possible.

No doubt they were already considering what that could potentially mean for the state of things, big and small.

He pressed on. “In fact it was our own Britain born Harry Potter who achieved this momentous feat. He now stands recognised by the International Confederation of Wizards as His Royal Highness, King Harry James Hyperion Potter, of the Royal and Most Ancient House of Potter. Lord and Master of the island nation of Volstar.”

He waited patiently as the hushed whispered words turned into surprised exclamations and loud buzzing conversations. He could understand the surprise. He was rather certain he himself had been walking about with no small amount of shock since August, so he could certainly commiserate.

Eventually though, since there was still more he needed to say he gave a few hearty claps of his hands, amplified with just a touch of magic to rise over the noise.

“I will post copies of the notice to each of the House common rooms so you may read it at your leisure later in the evening.” He told them all plainly, cool blue eyes weeping over the crowded hall. “Unfortunately that brings me to a more unfortunate piece of news.”

And just like that the hall was deathly silent once more, eyes and attention riveted once more awaiting the next piece of juicy information that would no doubt feed the gossip mills of Hogwarts for weeks or even months to come.

“As he is no longer a student and has not stepped foot in these hallowed halls since his departure in the end of June, it is rather curious how his name managed to be entered into the Goblet of Fire. The Age-Line I myself crafted around the Goblet did ensure that no one who was not themselves of age, could pass over its boundary. As several of our more mischievous students had discovered for themselves.” The old headmaster added, casting a glance toward the spot where Fred and George Weasley were frowning back up at him, identical expressions of concern on their mirrored faces. “As it is practically impossible for young King Harry to have added his own name to the Goblet or for one of his friends to do so, I am left to assume that the event was perpetrated with malicious intent.”

Unease rippled through the hall, both from students who were casting looks about at each other, and from the staff members Albus could feel shifting behind him.

“As such, I’m afraid that I must inform you all that an official investigation must be opened into this unfortunate event and that during said investigation you may be called to meet with your head of house to answer questions and offer insight depending on where the investigation leads. Until then, classes will continue on as normal and you are all of course expected to do your very best despite the excitement.” He added, eyes sweeping over the hall one last time. “That is all, please enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He turned then, casting a look down at where Minerva was sitting, expression pinched and silently asked her to keep an eye on things. At her small stiff nod he turned to head towards the side door where the three champions, their headmasters, Professor Pomona Sprout and Mr. Crouch had already moved to. The unsteady _tap-clack_ following behind him letting him know that Alastor had opted to follow him.

On the other side of the ordinary door, in what was typically a small sitting room for the Hogwarts staff to relax in before and after meals, three bright eyed students were listening attentively as Mr. Couch spoke to them. No doubt getting right into the rules and responsibilities of it all.

For a moment Albus considered whether he should immediately interrupt or not before ultimately allowing the conversation to play out.

Eventually Mr. Crouch quietened and the three students each signed their own contract stating that the rules had been explained to them and that they were agreeing to perform the other tediums that came with their new position. Media interviews being one of many, unfortunately. But nevertheless, the quiet gave him the opportunity he was looking for and he stepped forward.

“Congratulations to each of you, I have no doubt you will all perform wonderfully and make your families and schoolmates very proud.” He told the students, smiling cheerfully before shifting just a little so he could indicate back towards the door. “For now the most pressing matters have been seen to, so you are all free to return to your friends and celebrate. We will be having a luncheon in a few days time whereupon we may go into greater depth about the things you can expect going forward.”

Subtly so the students would not notice, he raised a hand to forestall comment or question from the other faculty until the three younger wizards and witch had left the room.

“I’m terribly sorry to have interrupted, however we have a rather unpleasant problem.” Albus told them once the door was closed once more.

Mr. Crouch frowned. “What problem?”

The old headmaster held up the small piece of paper he had kept hidden in his voluminous robe sleeve. “A fourth name has been ejected from the cup. A name belonging to a person who is long longer a student. Indeed, the young man isn’t even in the country at present.”

“What?!”

The exclamation along with demands as to the name of the individual erupted from the others and he quickly raised his hands to stem the raging river of voices. “If you would all be so kind as to follow me, I believe this conversation would be served best in my office.” He told them quietly before turning to lead the way towards another door at the back of the room.

The door was one of only two that led to the headmasters office. The first that all students and visitors were aware of, guarded by a proud, if occasionally sarcastic stone gryffin. This one however was known only to staff and was well warded against intrusion but served as a discreet means for the sitting headmaster to get about without being inundated by students. 

Something Albus, much like many of his predecessors had made thorough use of.

When the foreign headmasters, Mr. Crouch and Professor Sprout had each taken a seat, Albus took a moment to charm up copies of the ICW letter and declaration he had received that afternoon. Addressed to him as Supreme Mugwump, it went into some detail about the deliberation that led up to the ratification of Harry Potter as King of Volstar. The alliance he already held with both goblins and house-elves, the facilities he had created for the care of werewolves, the schools and their planned curriculum.

It had made for an impressive read.

Quietly he called up one of the elves tied to Hogwarts and handed off six copies. One for each house common room and one to go down to Hogsmeade for his brother Aberforth to place up in his inn, while the last would be taken for Madam Rosmerta to do the same in the Three Broomsticks.

He did have some small hope that the spread of that information would help young Harry going forward.

Taking his seat he floated additional copies over to his guests and quietly instructed them to read it first while he called for tea to be brought up for each of them. He was rather sure they would be in discussion for a fair while, so he would attempt to make sure they were as comfortable as possible for the duration.

“This is dated just yesterday.” Pomona said quietly, frowning a little at the letter after she had finished reading it.

“Indeed, I was unable to attend this small meeting myself due to other obligations. However I received these this afternoon and had planned a staff meeting for tomorrow morning to discuss things.” Albus told them all calmly, looking down at his original copy and sighed. “But alas, it was young King Harry’s name that came fourth from the Goblet of Fire.”

“A friend, perhaps?” Madam Maxime inquired, frowning down at her own copy.

“I’m afraid his highness had very few friends during his time as a student of Hogwarts. The few that he had were all close to his year and would themselves be unable to place even their own names within the Goblet.” The old headmaster answered, expression shifting from regret to amusement. “A couple did in fact try to thwart the age line I put into place and were each thwarted in turn, much to the entertainment of their friends and yearmates.”

Mr. Crouch huffed, folding his copy and slipping it into his robe pocket for later re-reading. “There must be some explanation, for a name to come out of the thing, they have to be put in there first.”

Albus sighed quietly once more, turning his attention briefly to preparing tea with the delicate china tea service that popped into place on the corner of his desk, offering out cups as he went, being waved off by both Alastor and Mr. Crouch. “I’m afraid the answer is much more worrying than a case of bullying. This would not be the first year Mr. Potter's life has, unfortunately, been endangered within these halls. Indeed every year since his first something disastrous has happened in some way, specifically to him.”

“What are you saying, Dumbledore?” 

“He’s saying that someone’s trying to kill the lad.” Alastor cut in before with a growl before taking a swig from his flask. “This damn tournament has a higher kill count than Grindelwald and You-Know-Who combined. Someone putting the name of a lad who’s only just gone fourteen up for selection may as well be putting a wand to his head.”

“Wha-That’s preposterous!” Mr. Crouch exclaimed with a scowl, face flushing as his temper rose.

“I’m afraid there are many who will consider that to be a distinct possibility, Mr. Crouch. For the leader of another country to have their name placed into a binding tournament against their express will, let alone such a very dangerous one...many people will be jumping to every conceivable conclusion.” Albus reminded him calmly, pausing to take a sip of his tea.

Professor Sprout frowned down into her own cup, watching it ripple just slightly with the fine tremor of her usually sturdy hands. “What do we do, even if he is a leader of another country now, he’s still a boy?”

Beside her, Madam Maxime softly hummed. “I do not recall hearing of any withdrawal from the tournament.” She offered quietly, taking a little extra time to enunciate through her thick accent which itself was heightened from stress.

“That’s because there haven’t been any.” Bartemius huffed. “The selection process for the participating champions is itself a magically binding contract. The knowledge that refusal to participate as bound by that sacred contract can and will result in the loss of their magic or in death, is enough to convince all participants thus far to at least _try_.”

“Then at the very least you will need to mail Volstar and inform their King as to his unfortunate nomination as Tri-Wizard competitor.” Albus informed the other man, expression calm despite the worry he felt. “With his new title, I have no doubt some of the more...enterprising members of certain political circles may just try to make this unfortunate state of affairs into an international incident.”

Mr. Crouch, the current head for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, grimaced at that. “Just what I need. I’ll owl him after I finish briefing the Minister about the mess.”

“Ah, if I might. Given the distance it would likely take some weeks for your letter to arrive via owl and, if I recall, the first task of the tournament was slated to occur on the 24th of November. I would suggest utilising the goblins of Gringotts.” The old headmaster suggested, settling aside his empty teacup. “They have means of instantaneous transferring small items, such as letters to their branch on Volstar Island. And the sooner his highness can be made aware of the situation, the sooner he can meet with the organising body to discuss how to proceed.”

“And the aurors can question him about who would put his name in that blasted cup.” Alastor added, arms crossed and magic eye searching wildly for threats.

~*~*~*~*~*~

#### 1st November 1994 - King Harry’s Office, Skyfall, Volstar Island

Contrary to what Harry had originally thought, designing a library was a lot like designing a house.

At least it was when you went about it like Harry did.

Originally his designs had been very simple box shapes. Started with the boundary of one large box then divided further into smaller sectioned boxes that would split between what was contained within each section. One box for books on transfiguration, one box for books geared towards politics.

It was very basic and straight-forward, but that quickly translated into boring.

Everything they had built on the island thus far had been quite different from examples available back in Britain. They were also quite different from their counterparts in other countries, at least according to some of the more well traveled residents.

By now the schools and hospital were all properly furnished with a couple of house-elves in charge of each to make sure they were well maintained and ready for use. As such just about everyone had tramped through to get a feel for the buildings which had garnered a fair bit of interested feedback, along with a little bit of what could almost be summed up as culture shock.

But the point was that people had liked his designs. They were more modern than what most were used to seeing and interacting with, but they weren’t so futuristic that they alienated people. 

Something Harry counted as a clear win, especially after all the warnings he had gotten from Sirius about how old fashioned and stubborn witches and wizards from older generations tended to be.

So, with that in mind he had looked at those very basic box designs and and almost completely scrapped them.

Instead he had set to work on building up a floorplan that would allow him to create a three dimensional rune array, just as he had done with the houses and flat complexes. Working out the effects he wanted the array to perform and aligning everything just so, that way the ‘lines’ of each rune or binding matrix would form a wall that would generate the end effect for as long as the structure remained.

It did mean that sometimes, depending on the runes, that a room might be more quirky than what was standard. But, expanding on size in certain rooms and having furniture placed ‘just so’, went a long way to keeping things from feeling too odd. At least no more than what was normal in magical buildings.

So now, down to his final design, the library would automatically and constantly maintain things like humidity, oxygen levels, dust removal, moisture levels, mildew prevention and more. All geared towards making the library a veritable vault that would outlive and outperform any other of the great libraries, past or present. It would repair itself, clean itself and be well warded against outside sources that could possibly damage it or its contents.

He had talked it over with Goldhammer so that it could stand at fourteen levels, split above and below ground level. With entrances likewise above and below ground level so there would be an equal level of access between surface dwelling citizens and those that felt more comfortable underground. It would be another joint project and jointly shared building between all the currently settled peoples of Volstar.

Harry was man enough to admit that he may be overly attached to the idea of it already.

It did help that with the building having so many levels, that each race got a level that was solely modeled for their race to reflect their cultural and aesthetic preferences.

Which meant that the goblin floor was a little dimmer than the others but was well wrought in stone inlaid with precious metals and sparkling gems, with war banners and tapestries of the great clans proudly adorning the walls and roaring charmed braziers spread throughout.

While the elf floor was very lush, an indoor garden complete with waterfall and river, trees and rolling grassy hills to lie upon while reading. Dangling charms and chimes hanging from tree branches that tinkled in the slight breeze that brought with it the gentle scents of flowers, fresh water, cut grass and freshly baked breads and biscuits.

The two, so vastly different had caused more than one headache when it came to making sure everything would slot together in such a way that neither the array or the additional charms placed on the books that would live within the library would fail or undermine each other. Or cause something to explode.

“Harry, can I ask you a question?”

The query pulled his attention away from his review of the floorplans and up to Remus who was sitting at his own slightly smaller desk closer to the door. “Hm?”

“I’m writing to a few people I know in the lycanthrope community, back in England. I wanted to tell them about what you’ve been building here, but I’m a little stuck on how to explain the way you’ve laid out the employment laws…” The older man trailed off, looking up from what was presumably the letter he had been writing to give Harry a small shrug.

“Something specific or just in general?” Harry asked, setting aside the large plans he had been holding.

“In general...mostly?”

Harry offered the other man a smile. “Sure. So first is the foundation, V.E.S.L.”

“Vessel?”

“V.E.S.L, or the Volstar Employment Standards Law. It states the bare minimum of what any employer or business must provide for its workers.” Harry explained, reaching for an ever present notebook so he could write down what he was talking about for the other to reference back to later if he needed it.

“V.E.S.L states that all employees are entitled to ten things; maximum weekly hours, requests for flexible working arrangements, parental leave, annual leave, personal or carers leave which also includes compassionate leave which can be taken if a member of a workers immediate household or family dies or develops a life-threatening illness or injury, and unpaid family and domestic violence leave.”

Remus raised a hand to call a quick pause. “You mentioned annual leave, so I assume there’s a national standard?”

Harry nodded. “All workers from the start of their employment are entitled to eight weeks worth of paid leave each year, though there is a stipulation that states that if they plan to take more than a coupled days at a time that they should issue a formal notice to their employer so that their regular work can be covered properly during their absence.

“Now, this was taken into consideration when working out paid leave for lycanthrope sufferers, along with estimations about how much time they would actually realistically need to prepare and recover each month. Since I remembered from last year that sometimes you would recover better than others and could jump back into things, while others you were pretty poorly for several days after.”

Grimacing a little at the memory of some of his less kind transformations, Remus nodded slightly.

“So, the Werewolf subsection of the annual leave plan states that a worker with lycanthropy must be offered five days a month at half pay. Though in practice an individual might only use two of those days if they recover well enough. So that would be two days of half pay leave, and the rest of the month consisting of their normal pay. That way they keep earning enough to get by and their employers are also protected a bit.

“To assist in all that there’s the Temporary Worker Registry, that an employer can request assistance from and gain a replacement worker for the period their normal worker needs off at no cost from themselves as the government handles the wages of temp workers. Though, saying that the only people currently registered as temporary workers who can be moved from job to job on short notice are all house-elves. But it’s open to minors over the age of thirteen and anyone else that just wants to work a bit of part time here and there if a job comes up.”

Remus frowned a little. “So as a working resident, I’d be offered five days off a month which would still be paid days, but it would be half of what I’d normally earn for a day's worth of work. And while I’d be home or at the hospital recovering a temp worker would take over until I return to work.” Remus summarized, tipping his head back as he thought that over. “Why five and what would dissuade an employer from just refusing to hire me to begin with if they know I’m going to have to have time off?”

“I decided on five days since I had to take into consideration Blue Moons. The five days seemed the best possible number that didn’t feel excessive, since the allotment has to be made each and every month.” Harry pointed out, getting a blink and a nod from the older man. “As for why...well, really, if employers actually stopped a moment to think about it, they’d realise they’d actually be saving money by hiring a werewolf.”

“Temporary workers paid for by the government and only having to pay half wages for Full Moon Leave.” Remus agreed with a quiet hum.

“Yup. There’s also decent anti-descrimination laws built in that mean a person cannot be denied employment on the basis of gender, race, culture, religion, sexuality and illness to a certain extent. The latter meaning that certain consideration is given to the industry and the particular illness. But if a potential employee finds themselves passed over for employment or promotion in favour of someone with lesser qualifications or ability, then if they truly believe the choice was made in bias and was discriminatory in nature, then they could bring the matter to court and the business could be fined for it if they were found to be guilty.”

Harry fell silent for a moment to allow the other man time to digest that and mull it over a bit, while he took the time to write up the laws specifically, word for word on the note paper as he waited so that if he wanted to, the older man could just make copies of them and sent them off to his acquaintances.

After a couple minutes Remus pulled his attention back to the young king. “You said there were ten things, that was only five.”

“Right, so the other entitlements are community service leave, long service leave, public holidays, notice of termination and redundancy pay, and a fair work information statement.” Harry told him.

“What’s the fair work information statement?”

“Basically, it's a document that provides new employees with information about their conditions of employment. It should contain information on V.E.S.L, a comprehensive explanation of their right to request flexible working arrangements such as the ability to switch shifts with another employee if someone comes up or to be able to call in sick, etcetera. It should also list out possible rewards like promotions and bonuses. Workplace rights, information about termination of employment and information about who in the government they can speak to if they feel their employer is not honoring their work contract or is violating their rights.”

The werewolf nodded along with that, recalling a parallel to information offered via the few muggle jobs he had had over the years. “I know for muggles community service leave covers things like jury duty, but we don’t have the same system.”

“Right, but we do keep in mind other public services.” Harry said, adding that clarification to the bottom of the notes. “For example, let’s say that a particular illness sweeps through and the demand for the required potion to heal it is in such high demand that the city or country’s supply runs critically short. In that instance the Ministry or Crown could call on all qualified and licensed potioneers to focus their efforts on bolstering our stocks. Their usual employer if they have one would need to give them Community Service Leave in order to complete that task.”

“Makes sense…” Remus muttered, frowning just a little as he pondered the information.

Sensing that the other had run out of questions, Harry carefully tore the pages of notes from his notebook and let them float delicately across the distance between them and let them settle on the Remus’ blotter.

Almost at the exact moment they came to a stop a letter arrived with a dim flash and a quiet ding, settled into the tray for Harry’s incoming mail on the corner of Remus’ desk.

They both blinked at it, then at each other before their focus returned back to the letter.

So far incoming correspondence was a rare thing, running on an expected schedule. Even with the way open to receive mail from outside, there was a pattern that had developed for mail. Wednesday and Saturday for non-critical mail. Anything critical originating in Volstar itself was reported in person immediately, or relayed via the house-elves tasked with working in the Courier Brigade.

Before lunch on a Tuesday was, thus far, quite an unusual time for mail.

Reaching for it, Remus scrutinized it carefully a moment, running a small barrage of scans over it. Even knowing that the mail desk at Gringotts did their own very thorough search for nasty surprises before passing along the mail towards its intended recipient.

“HRH Harry James Hyperion Potter, care of Gringotts Bank, The city of Skyfall, Volstar Island.” He read off when he was absolutely sure it was clean and flipped it over. “From the office of Bartemius Crouch Sr., Department of International Magical Cooperation, Ministry of Magic, Wizarding Great Britain.”

“Huh, wasn’t Barty Crouch the guy that used to head the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the one with the Death Eater son?” Harry asked as he held out his hand for the letter. “I think I remember Sirius mentioning him when he was talking about his work as an auror.”

Remus nodded, floating the letter across and into the teens waiting hand. “That would be him, he was reassigned not long after his son's trial. It caused a huge scandal, the knowledge that his own kin was a Death Eater and he hadn't even known. No-one trusted him to be impartial or to be able to do the job since he managed to miss his own immediate family joining up with a rampaging Dark Lord. There was also a small matter of how ruthless and power mad he seemed to be.”

“Not a great combination for someone that’s supposed to see justice served without bias.” Harry muttered as he carefully peeled up the wax and pulled the parchment inside free.

They sat in silence for a long moment while Harry read then reread the letter several times, the sun browned skin between his dark brows furrowing more and more with each pass.

“Harry?”

“Apparently someone entered me into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, somehow. My name came out of the cup when they were drawing the names of the contestants yesterday.”

The older man blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“To the best knowledge of the tournament organisers the entering of a name is accepted as legal consent to a magically binding contract, one which states the entrant agrees to forfeit their life or magic should they attempt to renege on the contract.” The young king informed him, tossing the letter to one side and reaching for a blank piece of notepaper.

Scrawling out a quick note requesting the presence of Goldhammer and Bolderoath for an emergency meeting.

Turning he rose from his chair to approach Hedwig and gave his familiar a small smile. “I need you to take this to Chief Goldhammer, Hedwig. At this time of day he’ll probably be in his office at Gringotts, okay?”

A soft chirrup of sound and a small bob greeted his request and he carefully attached the rolled note to her ankle. As soon as it was safely attached he stepped back and watched her hop on her perch, turning her body so it was facing the open window behind her. With a quick strong hop she was far enough past the window to spread her snowy white wings and take flight.

“Tilly!”

A soft pop announced the arrival of Tillander, the head elf for Skyfall, who kept tabs on all the other elves to make sure they were getting enough to keep themselves happy. “Master Harry called Tilly?” The old elf asked with a rather stately bow.

“Yes, Tillander, can you please wake Sirius and return here with him. It looks like I’m going to have to take a trip very soon and we’ll need to plan for it.” Harry asked, knowing he probably sounded rather resigned and put out, despite best efforts for calm.

“Yes, sir!” The old elf chirped before disappearing again with a snap of his wizened fingers.

Alone again for the moment Harry looked across at Remus who had taken the time to rise from his own seat to read over the offending letter. “I can’t believe I get to say this.”

The werewolf looked up from the letter, frowning still at the contents. “Say what?”

One corner of his lips turning up in a rather self deprecating sort of half smile, Harry spoke. “We are _not_ amused.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hands up anyone who snorted at that list line from our Glow-Boy Harry?
> 
> I had to use it, it was the most perfect moment for it. I couldn't resist.
> 
> Also, I hope no-one is too bothered that I chose to weave away from the stereotype of trying to write out a french accent. I didn't want to run the risk of either being offensive to native French speakers or by writing up someone form of mangled English that would be near indecipherable to some of my readers whose primary language is not English. I've read so many stories where I a native English speaker have had to tilt my head sideways and try to translate what's being said that it's just shattered the feeling of story immersion, and I don't want to do that to my readers.
> 
> Also Also, How nice is it when people who are capable of critical thinking, actually make use of the skill?!


	15. I, We, Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ponders and worries ahead of the trip back to Britain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, Happy Monday.
> 
> A quick chapter this time, I hope you won't mind.  
> Another thank you to everyone that took the time to comment and let me know what they thought last week. I say it every time, but I truly do appreciate it.

#### 10th November 1994 - Landing Zone, Skyfall, Volstar Island

Despite earlier concerns, it had only taken Harry an hour to learn how to craft a portkey.

Making that into portkey a tattoo that was one array image that had built in charms to look like a completely different image that would let a person teleport in and out of the magical barriers around Volstar and also defend itself against any attempts to remove or alter it from anyone but Harry or his blooded kin…?

That had taken a few more days and some very ginger experimentation.

The rest of the time since he had received the letter announcing his odd entrance into what amounted to an international death tournament was mostly spent doing a variety of things. Such as preparing his wardrobe, learning how to stand and pose correctly, picking out -- read: arguing about -- who would actually accompany him, taking all manner of booster potions care of Healer Graves and going over the history and rules of the Tri-Wizard Tournament with Boulderoath.

Oh, and negotiating on how many goblin warriors would be assigned to his protection while away from Volstar.

Goldhammer -- and by extension the Goblin King -- had insisted on one hundred warriors. Harry had negotiated him down to fifty. Neither of them were particularly happy with that number, though for completely opposite reasons.

The fact that Harry had popped across to Greece while incognito for a day to pick up some more books without taking anyone with him, might have something to do with the goblins strong insistence.

In Harry’s defense it wasn’t like anything bad had happened. And he’d even managed to find some books on public speaking and public relations. Both things he was sort of in desperate need of going forward. Especially since he would need to meet with politicians and apparently the media as part of the whole Tri-Wizard circus.

So as far as Harry was concerned it had been a day well spent.

As far as construction was concerned, half the settlers, human or otherwise had homes of their own by this point. He had met with the construction team leaders to discuss where they were at and what to do going forward in the event that he couldn’t make it back regularly enough to give his requests and suggestions. He had left his plans for the Great Library and the shopping arcade, both of which were to be built in the third ring.

Each of the rings of Skyfall had names now, largely following the motif of stars.

The central circle around the fountain, being the Solar ring, wherein the government buildings, the first hospital, the three first schools, a couple of inns, a smattering of small restaurants and cafes, and consulate buildings would all reside.

The second ring, the Eclipse Ring, which would largely be home to apartment buildings and big business headquarters along with its own smattering of restaurants, cafes and a clinic or two for convenience.

The third ring, The Comet Ring, the shopping district which would house the lion's share of shops and small to medium scale entertainments. Theatres, concert halls, a couple of indoor sporting and exercise arenas. Even cinemas when Harry could find the time to sit down and work out a way to play film reels without the standard mundane machines.

The fourth, fifth and sixth rings, or the Luna, Nebula and Silent Rings respectively, would be the primary residential rings.

Then of course the seventh ring which had kept its nickname as the Green Ring since nothing else fit it better.

As part of construction they had left rather large main streets, both out from the centre point of the fountain and along main avenues for the rings themselves to allow plenty of room for transport. Magic powered trams that were bigger on the inside to maximise passenger numbers and comfort and to make sure even squibs would be able to catch a ride around the city.

There were also bike paths mapped out along the sides of the streets and broom paths that were mapped out in the permanent **_flagrate_** spell that Harry and Bill had worked out a couple of weeks back. Needless to say the broom paths were fourteen metres up in the air, but still in line with the roads, just in case.

The floating street lights had been a little nightmare all of their own.

But the point was, there was still work to be done while he was gone which he had left in itemised format. That and the specifically marked out instructions for rest days. Because apparently if he didn’t specifically tell people to rest, they thought they were supposed to work non-stop.

The less said about that conversation, the better.

So he had his wardrobe ready, he knew how to stand, how to pose himself for photographs or portraits. He knew how to give a speech and how to talk to people from the media, how to represent himself well. He had his port-key tattoo that would look like a crown under a sea of stars to everyone while its disguise was active.

He also had his entourage that would consist of fifty goblin warriors armed top to toe, five house-elves and two humans in the form of one William Arthur Weasley and one Healer Frederick Graves.

 _Both_ Remus and Sirius had had strong opinions on being left behind.

But Sirius was acting as Regent while Harry was away and Remus knew how to manage Harry’s filing system and needed the Full Moon rooms in the hospital -- which he had used twice now -- so removing either of them from the safety of Volstar seemed, to Harry at least, a pretty poor idea.

Bill at least would be taking a moment during ‘down time’ to meet with his parents to bring them properly up to speed and discuss in person the seat and title that had been gifted to the Weasley family in thanks to Bill’s efforts during Skyfalls founding. Healer Graves would be going on a recruiting run of his own. Apparently a few of his old colleagues had been grumbling for a while about throwing in the towel or finding employment elsewhere. According to Graves, a few had even daydreamed about opening a small clinic of their own.

All things Volstar could make use of, if the headhunting went successfully.

Though, for right now, it was entirely possible that Harry was feeling just a tiny bit nervous, and it may have absolutely everything to do with the crown resting on his brow.

One of two crowns that had been gifted to the Volstar royal family when the alliance between the Goblin nation and the crown of Volstar had been cemented. They were both goblin crafted gold with thumb sized marquise cut diamonds that sparkled radiantly like stars. 

The ‘formal’ crown consisted of seven points, each with its own sparkling diamond and each discretely inscribed with a different array. Each served to protect or aid the wearer in some way, from granting the ability to perceive poisons and magical disguises and alterations, to boosts to the wearers own mental barriers and the ability to communicate telepathically with members of his retinue that wore a piece of jewelry that was charmed to match the crown array.

They ended up with an earring that consisted of a small sparkling comet hanging almost invisibly from a gold cuff. 

The crown he was wearing now though, was thankfully the ‘informal’ one. Which in practice meant that it was much more discrete circlet design made up of winding gold that held in place a large centerpiece diamond that had been expertly crafted and faceted down into a seven point star that sparkled so brilliantly it was only ‘discrete’ in comparison to the more formal crown.

Needless to say, Harry was definitely feeling less than comfortable wearing this one piece of jewelry that was worth more than everything else he owned combined, and then some.

Sirius, the arse, had laughed at him when he had first tried them on to get used to how he was meant to move in them. As it turned out, even though they were quite secure, he himself moved strangely at first since he subconsciously -- and a bit consciously -- expected them to go flying if he moved too fast.

All around him everyone was doing last minute checks on their items which would be shrunk down and pocketed for easy transport. To one side were Sirius and Remus who were wearing their own cuff earrings, since it turned out the range of the communication enchantment was directly proportionate to the person actually wearing the crowns. 

Meaning absolutely everyone was certain that Harry would still be able to ‘talk’ to people even if he was on the absolute opposite side of the world.

He’s still not sure how he feels about that.

But regardless, Sirius, Remus, Bill, Healer Graves, Golhammer, Tillander and Ruknukle -- who had been assigned the position as head of the Kings Guard -- all had one of the enchanted cuff-pendant earrings. This meant that they would all be able to communicate telepathically regardless of the distance thanks to Harry powering the array in the crowns. Access to each of the people he had been reliant on most as a sounding board for his thoughts and ideas in recent days would be there, a constant quiet buzz in the back of his mind.

They had spent the previous day learning how to communicate, as a group and as individuals person to person. To become familiar with that steady hum that meant they were not completely alone in their own mind. And to learn how not to broadcast absolutely everything they thought to each other in a constant stream of words, feelings and images.

And despite the reassurance that came with it, Harry was still nervous.

Much more than he thought he would be.

Because this, going forward, would be the first of many moments when ‘I, Harry’ would instead be ‘We, Volstar’.

The voice of the many in the face of international politics. The image of what Volstar as a country, as a community, was.

He was bloody _fourteen_.

Taking another deep breath, Harry held it for as long as he could before letting it out in a long slow exhale.

If he had the time, he probably would have plopped down off to one side to meditate. Again.

Instead he watched as the last of the trunks were locked up and shrunk down, stuffed into pockets. He would be apparating to the ritual room beneath Gringotts’ Diagon Alley branch where they would be met by British Ministry representatives. They would apparently have a port-key that would take them to the British Ministry foyer where Harry would then be led to his meeting with the current Minister of Magic for Wizarding Great Britain and the head for international cooperation. Minister Cornelius Fudge and Mr. Bartemius Crouch Senior, respectively.

Well, Lord Crouch technically. Since he was still a member of the British Wizengamot and the British House of Lords, though supposedly his attendance at formal proceedings had been growing less and less these days.

Ugh, politics.

A hand on his shoulder dragged his attention away from his thoughts and turning he focused glowing green eyes on Sirius’ solemn face.

“Ready to go, pup?” The older man asked quietly, his own silver eyes looking him over as if he could tell by sight alone if Harry’s house-elves had forgotten to pack something for him.

“As I’ll ever be, I think.” The teen replied with a rather self-deprecating half smile.

“Not too late for me to go along…”

“We can’t both be gone, you know that. Especially when there’s still so much work that needs doing.” Harry reminded him, not for the first time. “We’ve been over this.”

Sirius huffed a sigh, arms moving up to cross over his chest. “I know, I know. I just don’t like you going off into who knows what without me there to watch your back.”

The young king offered his godfather a small but genuine smile. “I know and I’m grateful, really. But most of the time I’ll be in boring meetings and I’ve already got more back watchers than I know what to do with.”

He cast a bright eyed glance to the side where his goblin guard was waiting for his ready sign.

“Fair enough. Least I’ll have the weather.” The older man added with a smirk.

Harry huffed at that. “Don’t remind me. It’s been almost nonstop sunshine since we got here and now I’ve got to go back to the dark soggy cold. I think Graves has given me just about every health boost potion he knows about to wish away any chances of me getting the sniffles.”

“You’ll live.” Came the nonchalant reply.

The teen gave that response the glower it deserved before looking around to gauge the others' readiness. “You remember the break routine?”

“Every Sunday and a week after every major project completion.” The animagus recited dutifully, reaching out with warm hands to rest one on his godson's shoulder and the other around the teens neck. “I’ve got things covered here, I promise. Moony is even here now to back me up if I need it. You just focus on being your fabulous self.”

“Yeah.”

“Besides,” Sirius added with a small smile, “Anytime you need me, I’m just a thought away.”

“We’re ready.” A grumbling voice called out from behind Harry.

The teen reaches up to give his godfather’s arm a squeeze before stepping back. “Right then, no wild parties while I’m gone.” He teases with a lopsided smile, glowing eyes flicking to Remus who has come up behind Sirius.

“No promises.” Remus quipped back while Sirius threw his head back and barked a cheerful laugh.

Harry grinned despite his lingering concerns at the sound of the laughter, heartened to hear it, just like always. Spinning around he finds his retinue waiting, each of them standing hand on shoulder with the person behind and in front of them waiting for Harry to be the last link in the circle and trigger the translocation.

It takes surprisingly little power to activate and guide the port-key tattoo. So little in fact that when the world rights itself Harry is almost left reeling.

Not from the vertigo that used to follow on the heels of magical transportation.

It had just been easy. So so easy.

He’d anticipated more power to cover the distance. More discomfort from the trip.

Just _more_.

He cast a quick look over the rest of the group and found them all accounted for and looking just as...non-ruffled as Harry was feeling. Bill had a kind of far-away look in his eyes that Harry recognised from their practice with the crown telepathy network, and could feel a slight increase in the static hum in that back of his mind. Which he took to mean that Bill was letting Sirius and Remus know that the jump had occurred without incident.

Which made sense since there had been some curious -- definitely not concerned -- thoughts about whether they’d be able to make the jump if Harry was the only one with the portkey tattoo.

Which, really, just meant that there would be testing done at some point later.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye the teen turned toward it to find a couple of his goblin guard were standing in the way of an unfamiliar wizard who looked to be trying to get closer to Harry.

Shaking off the last of his wild thoughts, Harry quickly settled himself into what Sirius had teasingly started calling his ‘King Face’. Focused on the here and now, and on the matter at hand.

A quick look over the man revealed him to be of middle years with short cropped brown hair that was quite receded, a bushy moustache that made Harry think of Vernon, ruddy complexion and brown eyes that were a little on the beady side. He was dressed in a dark brown suit and matching robes that were darker at the shoulders and hem with damp and spattered with specks of mud. Much like his pointed black leather shoes.

Filing the information away, along with the knowledge it had been raining fairly recently and instead focused on the other man who was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. “You are the British Ministries representative?”

The man straightened, tugging at the hem of his jacket. “Y-yes, how do you do. Albert Blushtick, at your service.” The man quickly introduced himself, glancing uneasily from the mass of heavily armed goblins surrounding Harry to the young king himself. “I was given a portkey that will take us directly to the Ministry Atrium from here, as the goblins have temporarily lowered their anti-portkey protections to help facilitate things.”

Harry gave the man a slight nod before turning back to Ruknukle who had quickly taken up position beside him. “ _Ruknukle, pick out ten of the warriors to escort the elves to the town house Sirius told us about. He said it’s going to take a lot of work to get it properly secured and tidy. They should be able to make good progress if they get started now._ ” He quietly requested in gobbledygook, ignoring the audible gasp of surprise that erupted from the suddenly pale Mr. Blushtick.

Ruknukle responded with a sharp nod and turned away to glance at the other goblins and quickly picked out a group of ten and snapped out their orders. Ten to Grimmauld Place, which Sirius had lent the use of since it was apparently under a fidelis charm and another ten to go ahead to the Ministry to secure the location. Once done he turned back to study the unfamiliar wizard with a near tangible sensation of disdain. 

Several quiet pops later Harry was left with just thirty of his fifty guards, Hildegara of the house-elves, who was meant to stay with him at all times and Bill and Graves who were acting as his attendants.

Turning his attention back to the wizard whose face couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to be rubby or pale, Harry ruthlessly fought to keep the grin off his face. “Mr. Blushtick. May we see the portkey?” He asked, making a conscious effort to keep his amusement out of his voice. “To my understanding the standard portkey created for use by the British Ministry has a carry capacity of twenty passengers at the absolute maximum. However, as you can see our retinue is a fair bit larger than that.”

He pointed that out with a wave about their group, watching the man's dark eyes dart about the group.

“We can, however, pluck the landing location from the portkey you have on you and transfer our retinue under our own power.” Harry told him as Bill stepped forward with one tanned hand outstretched.

The other wizard blinked, stammering through a muttered agreement and pulled a long floral patterned silk kerchief from his pocket and handed it over to Bill who in turn held it out to Harry.

Rather than taking it though, the young king focused his magic down into his hand then further. Reaching with it down into the charm that made the piece of delicate fabric something more than ordinary. Coaxing the magical imprint to the surface he cocked his head to one side while he let it filter through his mind. 

A nifty little trick he had learned from the goblins when he was learning how to entangle his own power into the shroud around Volstar. He hadn’t exhausted all the possibilities when it came to testing out the ability, but so far, he hadn’t encountered a charm he couldn’t take apart and put back together sideways if he wanted to.

Remus had given Harry this _look_ when Sirius had told him all about it that Harry still wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Landing point imprint successfully retrieved Harry drew his hand back and looked back up to find the balding wizard staring at him.

Unsure whether it was his glowing eyes or his stupidly famous scar that was being stared at and unwilling to deal with either possibility, the teen decided to ignore it and push on. “Thank you Mr. Blushtick. Now if you would be very kind and pop ahead to make sure there is enough free space for our group to arrive, we would appreciate it.”

The man jolted as if stung or was otherwise shocked out of a stupor and nodded vigorously, taking the portkey kerchief back from Bill. “Yes, yes. Certainly, I’ll just...Queen.”

Harry blinked as the man warped away and turned to exchange a look with first Bill then Graves.

“Did they really send a portkey that...no. Nevermind, we’re ignoring that. Form up everyone, the sooner this is done with the better.” He said, waving hands to emphasise the circle formation they had used for the first trip there.

In short order they were reordered and lightly touching down on polished floors in a large cavernous space that probably would have echoed more if there were less people standing around the outside edge of space. Space that had been thoroughly established by armed and armoured goblins with hands on weapons, and a small batch of aurors that had no doubt shown up when the small group of goblins had arrived.

Though that might be wrong. Harry was really only basing it on the rapidly changing expressions on their faces when they caught sight of the thirty additional heavily armed goblins in ranks around the noticeably young teenager wearing a crown.

Taking a breath to ground himself he cast about before spotted their guide, red faced and arms frozen rather comically in the air beside one of the aurors.

Sighing quietly Harry raised a hand and gestured for them both to approach and tried not to be too amused as they did, their guide using the stern faced auror as a human shield as they walked.

Drawing to a stop at two arm lengths away from the living goblin shield, the auror, dressed in plain sturdy fair, regarded each of them. “I’m Senior Auror Phinieas Ferguson, please state your name and your purpose here.”

Ruknukle growled and stepped forward before Harry could answer. “Wizard King Harry James Hyperion of the Royal and Most Ancient House of Potter, Lord and Master of Volstar, Friend of the Underhill. Here to discuss terms with British Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge.”

Harry thought you could have heard a pin drop.

The absolute silence that followed the statement was phenomenal.

It also hurt his ears, just a bit.

Producing the letter detailing the meeting, Harry handed it across to Graves to show the auror since he doubted Ruknukle would actually let him get closer to what he no doubt considered a potential enemy combatant.

A quick whispered conversation between Graves, Mr. Blushtick and Auror Ferguson ended with the now very frustrated auror turning back to Harry and giving a short stiff bow. “I, on behalf of my fellow aurors offer our sincerest apologies for the lack of proper welcome. It seems the Ministers note regarding plans for your arrival missed our desks. If I can ask for a moment of your patience to rectify the situation?”

Translation: _Didn’t know you were coming, not our fault, please don’t cause a fuss._

Harry offered the older man a small smile . “Just because you apparently got the short end of the stick, doesn’t mean we intend to beat you with it, Auror Ferguson. We’re content to wait here while you do what you need to.” He told the man calmly and tried not to grin at the relief on his face.

Watching the man turn away and quickly move to speak to one of the other aurors, the teen absently waved a hand and conjured up a replica of his pale carved wood and glittering crystal star studded office chair and sank into it. 

With another wave he conjured up chairs for Bill and Healer Graves and a stool for Hildegara and Mr. Blushtick. “I suppose we may as well get comfortable.” Harry told them. “This might take a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and...curious I guess.
> 
> They're off to a grand start *sighs*
> 
> Anywho, let me know what you thought, both of the chapter itself and the *cough*interesting*cough* choices the Ministry(read:Fudge)'s made and the impact you think it could all have going forward.  
> You guys have some pretty interesting insights and ideas and I really enjoy reading them :D


	16. Not Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes his first steps setting things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday Lovelies. 
> 
> Sorry for the slightly later posting, apparently the world wants to kick my ass today. I've been going from problem to problem putting out fires (not literally) since Saturday and I've come to the conclusion that if the old saying 'no rest for the wicked' is true, I must in fact be the incarnation of Abadon.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Another small one but hopefully not disappointing.

#### 10th November 1994 - The Atrium, British Ministry of Magic, England

Despite his original estimations it only took a few minutes for the first person to approach their group once Auror Ferguson had taken on at a brisk clip that Harry immediately associated with someone that desperately wanted to run but couldn’t.

Like the way students would go from running full speed down the halls of Hogwarts but suddenly shift into the most alarmed power walk they could manage the moment a professor or a prefect appeared.

Even given the circumstances, Harry thought it was rather funny to see in a grown up.

Maybe because of the circumstances, too.

The woman that sidled up to the outer ring of his glowering goblin wall was dressed in a simple looking black pantsuit under matching black robes. She looked rather like what they had in mind when they had coined the term nondescript. From her very average brown hair and eyes, the features that were neither pretty nor ugly. Her average height and build and the very average outfit.

There really wasn’t anything about her that stood out and grabbed at the attention.

“Excuse me, your Highness?” She called out, just loud enough to be heard by him from her spot, an arm length away from the guard ring. “My name is Eliza Fairweather. I work for the Daily Prophet newspaper and I was originally here to do a little fact checking for another story, but I was wondering if you would be willing to spare a moment for a little Q and A?”

And that, Harry thought, was definitely an interesting idea.

The books he had read about public relations had covered a fair bit on media relations and representation. Spinning narrative and creating a strong public persona. As it was, the only general public only knew little bits and pieces about him, and most of it was all gossip and fairytales that someone had cooked up when he was still a baby.

That aside, the opportunity to get ahead of whatever media mess that might pop up because of all this Tri-Wizard rubbish was more than a little tempting.

“Certainly, Ms Fairweather. Please have a seat.” He replied, conjuring up another seat with an absent flick of his fingers.

Staring a little wide eyed from Harry to the plush chair that had popped up out of nowhere without so much as a whisper, the middle aged reporter dipped a quick lopsided curtsey and sank into the chair provided.

Once seated she pulled a notepad and what was apparently a self-inking quill from her pockets and settled them on her lap. “Well, firstly good morning and welcome back to Britain I suppose, I imagine it’s been a little while since you were last here?”

Relaxing back into his chair, Harry offered her a small smile. “Good morning and thank you. It has been a while, since early August actually.”

“Building a new magical community must take quite a lot of time and effort, I can’t even imagine.” She replied, offering a small smile of her own.

Harry chuckled at that, easily thinking back on all the running around and non-stop work that had been happening. “It really does, especially if you want to get it done right. I’m rather blessed to have some very dedicated and talented people equally invested as I am into building our own peaceful home.”

“If I can be honest, it seems to me like such a massive idea. Build a new country. Do you mind me asking how that all started?” She asked, leaning forward a little as her quill hand flew over the paper.

“By being quite fed up honestly.” Harry admitted with a slightly wry grimace. “There have been so many little things that have either happened to me or to a friend or just someone else I’ve met. I really just wanted to be somewhere safe, where everyone was treated with common decency. Where we didn’t villainize victims or discriminate against others based on their beliefs, their culture, or even their race.”

He paused for a moment, glowing eyes dropping down to his lap for a moment as the fingertips of one hand reached up to lightly trace over his scar.

“I just thought, there’s enough terrible things in the world. It seemed time to make something _good_.”

When he looked up again it was to find Ms. Fairweather staring across at him, brown eyes wide.

Despite the niggling squirm of discomfort at the attention the teen offered her a small smile. “Sorry, I tend to go on about things I feel strongly about.”

“Oh! Not a problem.” She replied quickly, looking down at what she had written so far. “I have to say, there’s been quite a lot of speculation going on about what sort of place Volstar actually is.”

Leaning forward, Harry gave her another bright smile and said. “Well, why don’t we talk about that for a bit?”

They spot back and forth for several long minutes while a few braver souls inched their way closer to the protective ring, looking to overhear what they could of the conversation. Most of the questions and general discussion was centered around Volstar and Harry himself, but a few touched on the British Ministry and the upcoming Tri-Wizard. In a lovely twist it seemed that Ms. Fairweather was also terribly curious how the name of a world leader, who hadn’t stepped foot in the region in months, could have possibly had their name entered into a tournament with such a ghastly history.

Also, how there were as far as anyone could tell, no safeguards in place to make sure any Tom, Dick or Harry, did not have their name tossed in and their magic forcefully bound to it. 

For a little while, Harry had honestly half expected the reports poor notepad to burst into flames with the furious back and forth of her quill.

He reckoned he was wizard enough to admit he was rather looking forward to the article.

And the fallout.

Twenty minutes and a rather decent interview later rapid movement off to one side heralded the arrival of a rather large group of people. A quick glance revealed it to be a mass of aurors dressed in what appeared to be formal uniform.

“Ah, I hope you’ll forgive me for ending our conversation there, Ms. Fairweather. It seems it’s back to business for us.” Harry told her with a smile, indicating towards the approaching group.

“Oh, not at all. Thank you for answering all of my questions, I admit I might have gotten a little carried away.” She added with a nervous huff of laughter, rising to her feet and clutching her notepad to her in a vice grip.

“My pleasure. I’ll send along that information packet once our business is finished here, that way it can be included as intended along with the interview.” He promised as he pushed to his feet and cast a glance to the group of smartly uniformed aurors before glancing back at her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon.”

Attention turning away from the reporter as she dipped into a wobbly curtsy and stepped away, Harry absently vanished the chair she had been using before signaling for Ruknukle to allow the leader of the group and her seconds through while Ms. Fairweather slipped out. 

The woman that came to a stop in a spot where Ms. Fairweathers seat had previously resided was a somewhat stern looking woman of middling height and appearance and she was dressed in formal attire just like the other aurors. She however had a few additional badges and pins in her uniform that the others lacked.

Watching her and the two aurors that flanked her Harry took a breath and tried to brace himself for more formal chitchat even as the three figures offered up their own formal bows in greeting.

“Your Highness, King Harry of Volstar. I am Madam Amelia Bones, the current Head for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The gentlemen behind me are Rufus Scrimgeour our current Head of the Auror Office and Senior Auror Gawain Robards.” She introduced, gesturing first to one then the other. “I wish to apologise most emphatically for the lack of suitable reception during your visit.”

Giving a small nod in greeting to all three in return, Harry waived away the apology. “There’s no apology necessary, Madam Bones. We understand you can only be as prepared as you are informed. And we would not blame your office for the poor choices of others, it would be grossly unfair.”

“That’s very kind.” She said quietly, letting out a quiet breath in a sigh. “Ideally we would have had weeks preferably to discuss security arrangements for the duration of your stay. Unfortunately that is not the case, however we do hope we can work with your chief of security to reach an acceptable arrangement.”

“Then allow us to introduce Ruknukle of Clan Craggrok who stands as my Head of Security.” Harry said, gesturing to the goblin in question who had positioned himself slightly forward and to one side of the teen. Very distinctly between Harry and possible danger, but without running the risk of being in the way. 

Which was probably a good idea, Harry reckoned, at least for this next bit.

“Before I lose you to those arrangements, Madam Bones, there is another thing which needs brought to your attention.” He told her, summoning the very carefully worded request that had taken Bolderoath and himself a full afternoon to draft into air tight officialness. 

Handing it to Bill in order for the older man to pass it across, he let his arms rest loosely behind his back, the fingers of one hand wrapped around the opposite wrist.

“Lord Sirius Orion Black the Third of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, has, at this point in time been granted political asylum pending our own investigation into his alleged crimes, for which he was sentenced to Life in Brittain’s Azkaban Prison.” He stated clearly. Knowing from practice that his voice would carry well enough for the surrounding individuals to hear. “The document you are now holding is an official request for any and all information regarding the crimes Lord Black was accused of. Including but not limited to copies of all gathered evidence, eyewitness testimony, trial transcripts and copies of reports penned by the aurors assigned his case.”

All three members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gaped at him rather wide eyed for a moment. The very same expression Harry could see in his peripheral from several of the crowd.

Ms. Fairweather, he noted, had flipped her notepad back open and seemed to be writing furiously.

“That’s madness!” Head Auror Scrimgeour snapped. “The man is a murderer and you’re going to let him get away with it after it was your own parents he betrayed?!”

“Guilt of a crime is assigned once an accused individual has had all evidence reviewed and has been found, upon said review, guilty beyond any reasonable doubt, Head Auror. We find Our witnessing Mr. Peter Pettigrew alive and well just a handful of months ago, despite Lord Black having been accused of his alleged cold blooded murder, well within the grounds of reasonable doubt. The fact that the sighting occurred on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was immediately reported to British Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, only for it to be dismissed without proper investigation despite Minister Fudge ordering literally hundreds of dementors away from their duties safeguarding the prisoners of Azkaban in order to safeguard Hogwarts and Ourself against potential threat speaks volumes.”

Falling quiet for a moment Harry took a moment to consider whether it made him a bad person for taking so much pleasure in the absolutely gobsmacked look that popped up around the large hall.

This was one memory he would definitely have to share with Sirius when he got back to Skyfall.

It probably wouldn’t have been quite as funny if he wasn’t acutely aware that he had them, as Sirius put it, by the short and curlies.

In a handful of sentences he had -- in a round about fashion -- accused members of the British Ministry of ineptitude and the standing Minister of dereliction of duty in such a way that it all had to be re-examined and addressed. Otherwise it would be tantamount to their calling Harry, a visiting dignitary, a liar.

Which, suffice it to say, wouldn’t be a good look.

“We understand that the Minister and your own offices are in fact very busy, especially right now while investigating how the name of a foreign leader managed to be entered and magically bound against all will and knowledge, into a tournament that has a long and storied history of mortality.” He pointed out, offering a small -- definitely not smarmy -- smile to the DMLE agents in front of him. “As such, our own law enforcement will investigate the case and pass along their findings once the investigation comes to conclusion.”

Maybe he should feel a little bad, ripping the rug out from underneath the British Ministry in such a public place, with a reporter barely ten feet away. Though the young king couldn’t quite feel it in himself to feel bad at all.

Not with what had happened to Sirius and his very avoidable assassination attempt.

“Now that that’s out of the way we can move on to other matters.” Harry informed them while they were still almost uniformly gaping at him. “We have managed to make some small measures to assure Our security for the duration of our stay in Britain.”

He paused a moment, watching first Madam Bones then the other two pull themselves together and properly follow along again.

“Our residence, donated for Our use for the duration of Our visit, has been placed under the Fidelius Charm. It’s general location and Secret Keeper will remain undisclosed as a firm security measure. In addition the number of warriors with us now will remain the minimum number of guards with Us at any given time, and any further measures your office wishes to implement should be discussed with Warrior Ruknukle.” The teen told them, voice as stern as he could make it to make sure they understood it would be non-negotiable.

“I’d like to request that you accept an additional contingent of aurors into your protection detail.” Madam Bones requested, looking from Harry to Ruknukle and back again.

A quick bout of silent communication between the two had Harry eventually nodding in response. “Acceptable, on the proviso that for the duration of their placement, they accept Ruknukle as their commander and follow his orders.”

The department head considered that for a moment before inclinging her head in turn. “Provided none of those orders go against the interests or welfare of Britain or its Ministry.” She said sternly, glancing first to Ruknukle then the teen. “As for your meeting with the Minister, since that will be held in the Ministers office I’ll increase the number of guards stationed in the halls outside it and station a couple inside the office itself.”

“Unacceptable.” Ruknukle snarled. “The Minister's office only has one point of escape that can be barricaded to keep the Wizard King cut off from assistance or escape. It is also too small to house the number of warriors that would be needed to make the room acceptable.”

“You’d accuse the Ministry of treachery?” The Head Auror demanded, eyes narrowing as he glowered down at the goblin.

“I accuse you of nothing but poorly planned defense. If you wish to endanger your Minister with half measures you can do as you please. Volstar’s King is far too valuable to trust his defense to anything but the best laid plans.”

Harry bowed his head, biting his lip as discreetly as possible to keep himself from commenting.

Somehow he didn’t think the Ministry representatives would appreciate it.

Especially not the Head Auror.

Although the Senior Auror, Robards, who was on the opposite side to Scrimgeour had been very quiet. 

He’d been very watchful though, Harry had noticed, listening attentively and carefully watching the expressions and body language of the Volstar group regardless of who was actually talking.

Watching how they presented themselves and how they reacted to whatever was said.

Or maybe he was just bored out of his mind. 

The man did seem to have a very good poker face. He reacted not at all to anything that was said and his breathing had remained the same slow even pace that it had been when they had arrived.

Which given the fact they had come sprinting over from where the teen had been informed the lifts were located, only added more information to the deductive melting pot that was Harry’s mind these days.

“Although, without intending offence to your Minister, he has in the time that We have known him made enough less than well throughout choices. Planning in advance to account for misguided behaviours that occur in such high stress situations as international political negotiations. In this instance, a little extra breathing room could make a great deal of difference.” The teen pointed out as delicately as he could without sounding as if he were dumbing himself down.

He didn’t think they’d react well to that.

Even if what he had said could be summed up as: _I don’t trust him not to be a tit so I’d like enough room to dive under a table if he gets spell happy._

Yeah. Probably not a bad idea to sugar coat that.

“I see.” Madam Bones said quickly, cutting in just as the head auror opened his mouth to comment. “Then in the best interests of a peaceful and productive meeting, the British Ministry of Magic will review the arrangements and correspond with Warrior Ruknukle regarding the revised arrangements.”

“Then we thank you for your time, Madam Bones, Head Auror Scrimgeour and Senior Auror Robards.” Harry said, giving a nod to each of them in turn as he turned to give a nod to Graves who in turn moved to place a hand on Hildegara’s shoulder and one on Bill’s. 

Hildegara gave a quick little curtsey before reaching out a small hand to place it on Ruknukles armoured shoulder.

“We will be meeting with the various Headmasters, entrants and organisers of the Tri-Wizard tournament tomorrow and I am inviting you to attend in the event someone else has forgotten to involve you so that security for the event can be discussed.” The teen added, absently vanishing the chairs before lifting a hand to rest it on Bill’s free shoulder. “A luncheon just before noon.”

The department head gave him a brisk nod in return, lifting the thick envelope Harry had given her at the start of their conversation. “I will be there and I will start looking into this and the revised meeting arrangements immediately.”

One more nod, a blanket acceptance and Harry was already focusing his attention outward. His mind set upon the Secret Sirius had shared before they had left and on the familiar hum of his other house-elves energy signatures.

Then with a flex of his own innate power they were gone from the British Ministry with its disproportionately sized golden statues, dark brick walls and gleaming floors and were instead touching down in another place.

Old dark wood floors that no longer gleamed.

Dark peeling wallpaper that was warped by damp.

Smatterings of portraits bearing the likeness of witches and wizards long dead, whose steel coloured eyes all watched with a haughty sort of arrogance, waiting for someone to reveal themselves as prey.

Harry didn’t think he had ever been in a place that lived up to its name so absolutely.

Grimmauld Place.

Which was certainly grim and most definitely old.

Shaking off the thought Harry reclaimed his hand from Bill’s shoulder and took another look around the sitting room he had deposited them in, absently noting just how cloying and thick the scent of dust and damp was in the air.

“Well, Sirius really wasn’t kidding about this place.” He remarked absently, reaching up to run a hand through his mostly neat hair, sending bits and pieces of it into disarray. “Just as well he said I could redecorate while we were here.”

Beside him Bill hummed quietly. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll be off now to visit mum. I probably won’t be back until after dinner though, knowing her.”

“That’s fine, say hallo for me, yeah?”

“Will do.” Bill agreed easily, waving haphazardly as he turned to gingerly make his way out of the room.

Healer Graves hummed, his heterochromic eyes sweeping across the room placidly. “That’s not a bad idea actually. I think I’ll head out as well, pack away the rest of my flat since I won’t be going back there anymore.”

“Will you be back for dinner?”

“Probably. I already sealed up most of the flat when I left to head to Gringotts for our initial departure, so it shouldn’t take me too long to deal with the rest then turn over the keys to my landlord.” Graves replied with a small shrug. “Shouldn’t take me longer than an hour or two.”

Harry nodded and gave him a wave as he left, mind still mostly focused on the task ahead of him. Knowing the elves had most likely gotten started on cleaning up the utility rooms and the master bedroom when they arrived, he acknowledged that they likely hadn’t gotten much further than that. Especially if they were in as poor condition as even just this one sitting room was in.

He had a very visceral sense of disappointment that this was the sort of home his godfather had to look forward to after he had finally managed to escape Azkaban.

Cold and decayed with years of neglect.

A tangible lack of care.

Squaring his shoulders he cast about again, taking in the disrepair.

And underneath it the very weak strain of a magical pulse.

A pulse that was supposed to -- in a magical home at the very least -- help sustain the household charms that helped maintain a home. To keep dust and damp at bay among several other things like household pests.

Which at once told Harry that there were likely several critters scurrying around the townhouse that ought not have been there.

Sighing out a long breath, the teen squared his shoulders and focused instead on the fading portraits. Portraits that were likely only still ‘alive’ thanks to the dwindling pool of house magic.

“Ancestors of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. We introduce Ourselves to you, King Harry James Hyperion of the Royal and Ancient House of Potter. Wizard King of the newly established island nation of Volstar.” He told them, back straight and voice steady, glowing green eyes moving from portrait to portrait. “We have been granted sanctuary and free command of this old house by Lord Sirius Orion Black the Third, Lord and Master of your House for as long as We have need. In exchange for this noble act We will freely feed Our power into this House and return it to a place of splendor.”

He watched as the figures in the portraits blinked and cast about, exchanging looks with each other. He noted a couple that stepped out of their frames to places unknown and considered that they were likely going to spread the word to the rest of the portraits.

Above the fireplace the man in the largest portrait in the room bowed rather gracefully to Harry. “I, Arcturus Rigel Black the First, former Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, offer you King Harry my welcome and cordially accept the gift you offer unto our great House.”

The teen turned to face the large portrait more fully, taking in the figure painted in front of a dark wood library background. He noted the bright grey eyes and long curling black hair that were shared with Sirius and all the other portraits he could see. He took in the long knee length dark green coat he wore with its slender lapels and flat collar, the grey waistcoat visible beneath and the cream coloured trousers and dark leather boots with their folded tops.

With the addition of the white silk tied about his neck, he seemed to only be missing a tall top hat to complete the image, since he had in hand a long black cane with a rounded silver head.

It felt, Harry thought, a little strange to be talking to a figure that had lived and died in the early eighteen-hundreds. At least going by the plaque at the bottom of the portraits heavy and ornate frame.

Though likely it was something that he was going to have to get used to if he was going to be staying in this townhouse for several months.

The portraits of Hogwarts had at least kept mostly to themselves, these ones for some reason, gave Harry the impression even without actively addressing him just yet that they would expect a certain amount of polite conversation over tea. 

Even if they were only impressions of souls long departed.

Inclining his head to the former Lord, Harry cast his attention around the room again. “Then, we will get started.”

Contemplating the design of the room at present he thought back on the discussions he and Sirius had had about architecture, design and decoration.

With clear impressions and ideas in mind he held out both hands before him, one palm facing down to the dilapidated rug covered floor and one to the cracked off white ceiling above him. Slowly he brought his breathing down and let his magic flow from him and into the house, seeking out and matching that weak pulse he could feel buried beneath the surface.

He soaked that pulse with the steady beat of his own power, feeding it and nurturing it back into a strong pounding thrum.

Could feel it radiate from every direction, stronger even than it had ever been.

Or so that beating pulse whispered, giving of itself freely to Harry now that it was strong enough to respond to the welcome of its old master.

Slowly the teen returned to himself, his conscious mind slipping away from the pulse and thrum of the ancient House magic. Becoming a separate entity again despite the small hum of it that he could feel still in the back of his mind.

Glowing eyes blinking open he cast a look about himself, taking in the newness of the room and its increased size. From the carpet that now stretched new from wall to wall, the rows of bookshelves that lined the walls to the books and other bits that were waiting to be placed onto shelves that finally had room. The busts and statues dotted here and there and the lush red and dark wood furniture that had replaced the tired and broken pieces that had been there before he had closed his eyes.

Immediately he knew the rest of the house had changed to reflect the things he had had in mind when he had let his magic sink into the house.

Knew there would be places that were a touch old fashioned that would pay homage to the family’s deep history, and that there would be other places that would be startlingly new.

Just like the air was new and clear. Free from the old cloying damp and years of dust and neglect.

Lord Arcturus was glancing about the sitting room, taking in the changes with a critical eye. “Welcome indeed.”

Which really, was probably one of the best reactions he was going to get once the old portraits got wind of the newer more modern rooms.

With a nod to the portrait Harry turned to leave the room, absently flicking his magic out to sort and store the books that for some reason hadn’t been automatically stored with the rest when his magic reshaped the room. 

Time to see whether he would owe Sirius and apology or not.


	17. What's the Golden Rule?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry contemplates over breakfast and sets about his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Monday (or Sunday, or whatever day it is for you)
> 
> Gotta say the feedback for the last few chapters has been pretty interesting, both here and especially over on the discord server.  
> I didn't quite get all the scenes I was hoping for covered in this chapter, because contrary to the last couple it started to run a bit long and I thought it would be better to split them between this chapter and the next.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (04/12/2020 - Quick edit to fix a mistake I had made where Harry, Albus and Bill are discussing the gruesome history of the tournament. I wrote in the tally of deaths and injuries that I had worked out, but forgot to edit the dialogue properly to reflect the change. Which was, I admit, a horrible level of dumb from me. Sorry for any confusion for those rereading for the second+th time.)

#### 11th November 1994 - Grimmauld Place, London, England

Stepping out of the old main sitting room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place had been rather akin to being slapped in the face with culture shock.

Or at least something close to it.

The difference between the tired old townhouse that Sirius had shared with Harry in memory and the one that existed now were so widely different that there felt like more similarities could be found between night and day than the house the teen had wandered through.

Gone were the gothic interior with its wood panel or busy wallpaper walls and the dull and scuffed dark wooden floors. Gone were the thick cobwebs, the spider cracked plaster and the broken swinging lamps. Gone as well were all the family portraits, set off in their own grand ballroom where they could reside in peace away from the stark changes and the constant traffic of _newnewnew_.

Including the one portrait that Harry had had to relocate himself, pulling apart the magic that had kept the portrait of dowager Lady Black -- Sirius’ late mother -- cemented to one of the walls.

Even after the rest of the townhouse had warped and changed around her.

A stubborn hateful woman, Sirius had said.

It was also the only portrait of the lot that needed to be silenced and bound to its own canvas.

In the place of the old walls and floors were brighter much fresher replacements. 

Pale marble tile floors and equally creamy pale walls, matching carpeting in the living areas.

It was rather ironic how bright the House of Black had become.

Which probably said more about Sirius’ ideas and feelings about his old home than anything, since it was primarily his wants and ideas that had directed Harry’s magic as it changed things.

The formal dining room with its exposed tree root chandelier had been a bit unexpected and probably a middle ground blend of the teen and the animagus. The sandstone brick finish and intimate lighting a stark contrast to the black, light swallowing monstrosity that had existed previously.

At the moment though he had been set up in the large kitchen, working through the last of his breakfast while he read the morning papers.

And what a read they proved to be.

Arriving first was the Evening Prophet, the special release of the Prophet newspaper which was probably the most amusing of the bunch, at least as far as the boy king was concerned.

> _**Minister Fudge-Up**  
>  Shock and confusion at the Ministry this afternoon as the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge failed to appear to greet visiting dignitaries in one of the most politically important diplomatic events of the recent era._
> 
> _Wizard King Harry (Friend of the Underhill and better known by readers as The Boy Who Lived) of the newly established island kingdom of Volstar, fresh from meetings with the International Confederation of Wizards where his rise to magical royalty was ratified by the near unanimous vote of all sitting ICW members (see pg4 for more about the ICW meeting), appeared in fine fashion with a small entourage and under goblin guard to talk terms with the Minister._
> 
> _Unfortunately, despite these politically critical negotiations being in the works for weeks the was met by a single ministry worker upon arrival in the country who was reportedly under equipped to meet the needs of the party size. Upon arrival the diplomatic party (which of course included the young king) went unmet._
> 
> _Contrary to standard protocol for visiting dignitaries there was no greeting by any ministry officials, no aurors standing by to ensure the peace, no representative from the Department of International Cooperation. In fact, Department Head for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Amelia Bones arrived nearly a half hour after the party had arrived, bringing with her the news that her department hadn’t even been notified that there was such an important event incoming._
> 
> _King Harry accepted the apologies offered to him by Madam Bones, citing understanding. But this report wonders how understanding we as the voting public can be in a Minister that has failed so spectacularly at one of his most fundamentally important tasks as a leader. This cockup coming right on the heels of the massive manhunt for escaped convict Sirius Black that stole aurors away from other equally important investigations at taxpayer expense that lasted all year long._
> 
> _Possibly worse still, that very manhunt may have, in truth, been all for naught. Sirius Orion Black the Third, Lord of House Black is purportedly in the custody of Volstar, having sought political asylum from British Ministry prosecution._
> 
> _Why would they grant it, you ask?_
> 
> _As it turns out the curious case of Sirius Black may be much more shocking than first believed. New evidence (also reported to Minister Fudge at the time) has come to light that supposed victim Peter Pettigrew was seen alive and well just a handful of months ago on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If this is true that means that potentially everything about the crimes Sirius Black allegedly committed and spent a decade in Azkaban for, is on very dubious ground. It is enough to cite reasonable doubt at the very least, as pointed out by King Harry when he served Madam Bones with an official request for copies of all the evidence, trial transcripts and testimonies from the case._
> 
> _We at the Prophet will be keeping a close eye on the Ministry as these matters continue to unravel. There are a lot of questions that need answering and we are determined to get them._
> 
> _For now, please stay tuned for tomorrow's regular release of the Daily Prophet wherein readers will be treated to an exclusive interview with King Harry himself._
> 
> _This has been Eliza Fairweather for the Prophet._

The article had worked out even better than Harry had thought it might. Though he was willing to concede that probably had more to do with the sheer scandal than any real influence of his own.

Although the thought dragged his attention back to the paper that had arrived just a handful of minutes ago. The large font article with its very flattering title; **Volstar Island, Utopia on the Rise?**.

It was honestly a lot better than a lot of the possible titles that had popped into his head when he had been sitting through the interview the day before. He had been more focused on making sure Ms. Fairweather had gotten the right information down when the discussion had turned to Volstar’s laws and views on racial equality than what the interview might end up being called.

Still, the use of the word ‘Utopia’ was definitely a nice touch.

It certainly evoked a certain kind of thought that would certainly help their population growth.

Speaking of, Harry reminded himself that he was due for a stop at Gringotts to drop off the Citizenship Application tests. Construction had proceeded far enough that they could open up for early testing and, if nothing else, the returns would give them an idea on how well hopeful residents were absorbing the different laws.

Also how well they were reacting to finding out they would have to take psychological tests to determine their overall state of mind.

Which was not to say they planned to turn away people for things like depression or having a nervous disposition. But some things, like psychopathy and schizophrenia, while a bit rare in magical individuals did pop up and required very specific forms of treatment to make sure the sufferers could lead their best possible lives without posing a danger to themselves or others around them.

It was one of the few things he actually struggled with, when it came to building Volstar into the haven he envisioned.

As much as he wanted to lay out a broad welcome, he needed to keep in mind each individual and the impact even one person could have on the world at large.

Voldemort, Grindelwald, Madam Schwarzvelt, Um’matta and several other individuals over the years had well and truly cemented the example of a single soul's influence throughout history.

So Harry would continue to plan for the worst case scenarios while quietly hoping to be proven wrong.

Case in point, trying to plan around the mess that apparently was the British Ministry of Magic.

Taking a long deep breath in through his nose, Harry slowly released it back through his mouth, making a valiant attempt to release his annoyance with it.

He had fully intended, despite the disheartening stories Remus and Sirius had shared with him, to give the Ministry the benefit of the doubt. To judge each representative on a case by case basis upon the scale of their own merits and mistakes. 

It certainly didn’t help when straight out of the gate someone, be it the Minister himself or someone in his office, seemed intent on casting insults about left and right. Or at least had acted (or not acted) in a way that spoke of a very clear lack of respect.

Something that Harry the person could have shrugged off -- and he’d had to more than once in the past -- but as the entity formally representing an entire country and its people…

That was something else entirely.

And it was rubbing everyone the wrong way. Bill had even passed along his father's apologies when he had returned from visiting his parents the previous evening. The poor man apparently felt like he needed to apologise on behalf of the ministry in general just because he worked there.

And that had nothing on the long, _long_ list of expletives and choice comments that rumbled through their minds courtesy of Sirius. 

At least as many as he had gotten out before Remus had apparently taken away his earring for the night.

Now Harry was left with the sticky problem of making it clear he was willing to sit down as intended to talk about cementing a peaceful relationship between the two nations, without allowing Britain -- or or at least someone of its leaders -- to walk all over them. Because everyone deserves peace, but it should never come at the cost of others. Not if it was going to be long lasting or remotely worthwhile in the end.

He could -- and would -- protect the people that wanted to call Volstar home, even if he had to build a barrier even stronger than the one currently around their island for his people to live behind.

That aside, he had already received letters the previous evening containing favourable responses to non-aggression treaties with Greece, Malta, Italy and Egypt. Though admittedly the magical community on Malta wasn’t particularly large, it did have some old traditions and Harry preferred being friendly with all his neighbours rather than picking and choosing based on what Volstar could potentially get out of them.

He did hope they’d be able to form a decent friendship with Malta at least, based on its close proximity to Volstar. The idea of vacation hopping from one to the other had been a fairly amusing one, if he was being honest.

Movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed at his attention and as a small figure shuffled into the kitchen.

Dressed in an old, worn down pillow case that might have been white a long time ago, a deeply aged and equally worn house-elf made his way haltingly into the well lit room.

Kreacher.

Harry remembered the little Sirius had told him about the old elf.

Most of it hadn’t been particularly flattering, though Harry hadn’t been overly surprised by the lingering bitter feelings the animagus had for the house-elf. He might have felt similarly for anyone that willingly caned him on someone else's orders.

He did well enough with the Dursleys.

He sat placidly, drinking slow sips of his tea as he watched the small figure shuffle about the room over and over again. It took him a few rotations to finally clue in on what was wrong.

Everything was so very different than what had been there before. The kitchen which had been a dim, damp place with warped creaking floor and wobbling furniture, was not large and light and open. Made with gleaming mid-toned wood and high pale brick ceilings, white walls and a smattering of greenery. The darkest thing in the room was the large square shaped wooden counter he was seated at, which was composed -- if he remembered his woods correctly -- of wenge and a stained walnut wood.

Really, it stood out just as much as it blended in.

The whole room felt at once both homey and like a terrible decorating choice.

Or maybe he had just been spoiled by designing homes in Volstar.

But honestly, there were two different types of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a window that faced into the house, up near the ceiling.

Harry, not for the first time, considered that it seemed on a whole like it would be a better fit for the Weasleys than the House of Black.

Add that to the fact that every room in the house -- plus the back garden apparently -- had all grown in size and number. According to the elves and goblins he had sent on ahead while he went to the Ministry the day before, there had been a total of six bedrooms, four bathrooms, two formal sitting rooms, two informal sitting rooms, the kitchen and formal dining room, a cellar and the attic.

Now there were a ridiculous twenty-one bedrooms, including the master suite. Six bathrooms, though Harry wasn’t sure why since every room had its own adjoining bathroom and a sizable dressing room. There were apparently seven sitting rooms of various shapes and sizes, though all were apparently larger than the originals. The kitchen was completely different, as was the formal dining room. Beneath the house there were now three levels. A cellar for storage and brewing. A gym of mixed variety. And an entire floor that was split into rooms for house-elves.

Oh, and the attic was now a meadow complete with wildflowers.

Because magic, apparently.

At least Buckbeak, who had been moved into the meadow attic, was pleased with it.

So it really shouldn’t have surprised him, that the house-elf that had already been half mad, separated from any living form of master -- again -- and who had been a part of the same crumbling house for the entirety of his life was struggling and failing to adjust to the sudden differences.

Though Harry distinctly recalled Sirius telling him not to mind the mumbling. But as far as the teen had seen, the old elf had been quiet.

Maybe even eerily so.

“Your name is Kreacher, isn’t it?” He asked finally, cutting through the early morning quiet.

The old elf jumped, startled by the sudden question and turned to squint up at Harry.

Considering the large eyes that seemed stuck between glazed and wild, the young king opted for a slightly different approach. “Are you Kreacher, the house-elf of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black?”

Large eyes blinked slowly before narrowing again. “I is Kreacher.”

“I am King Harry of the Wizard nation of Volstar. This House has been offered for my use by the current Lord of this House, Sirius Orion Black the Third and I was welcomed last evening by Lord Arcturus the First.” He told the elf, giving rank and credentials in a few sentences to help the old house-elf establish what behaviour was expected.

A suggestion that had come his way from Hildegara who was apparently rather worried about Kreacher’s mental state.

The old elf nodded slowly, wrinkled hands coming up to grasp at his dirty pillowcase smock. “Ol masters told Kreacher about King Harry. Kreacher greets the Wizard King...He has a task for Kreacher?”

“There are a few things. Firstly I have finished with my breakfast so the dishes need to be cleared away. You can start with that. Once you are finished that task you must seek out my house-elf Gellion who will help you construct your new attire. It is your new Lords’ will that you wear the livery of the most ancient and noble House of Black so that everyone who sees you will see what House you serve with pride. Do you understand?”

If possible the small beings eyes seemed to become impossibly wider. “Kreacher may wear the colours of the most Ancient and Noble House?”

“You may, as long as you take care of it as you would anything else belonging to the House of Black. Because that’s what people will see when they look at you, so if your uniform is untidy then people will think that the House of Black is not being cared for. And we don’t want them to think that, do we?”

“Kreacher cares for the House of Black!” The elf snapped back.

“I know Kreacher. Even with no one here to serve and the house magic dried up and unusable, you still tried your best to take care of everything.” He told the house-elf calmly, not taking offense at the defensive attitude. “Any House would be deeply honored to be served by such a loyal elf.”

The small figure stared back back at Harry for a long moment through narrowed eyes before finally nodding slowly, large eyes still fixed on the teen. “Kreacher is proud to serve.”

Harry gave him a nod right back. “Which is why Lord Black thought it was time you should wear the House livery. So once you’re finished with these few dishes, you’ll go to my elf Gellion and together you’ll craft several sets of uniforms. Ones for your use and some spares in the event that Lord Black takes in more elves to serve the House of Black in the future now that the pool of House magic has been refreshed.”

He watched the smaller figure for a moment, getting a nod of acceptance for the command.

“Once the uniforms are secure there is one more task for you to complete today. You must go to the family plot and make sure the graves of the fallen children of House Black are well cared for. It’s likely been years since they were given the care they need, so you will see they are given that care. You may also take the time to mourn your deceased masters and mistress.”

And that, Harry thought would be the part that made a world of difference for Kreacher. The old elf had been tied to the empty house and its echoes of people long passed without having the opportunity to properly mourn, something all elves needed to do when their master died. 

The fact that Kreacher had likely gone on without saying his farewells to the late Lord Orion, to Sirius’ brother Regulus who Kreacher had apparently been particularly fond of, or the late Lady Walburga who had been the last to die…

His own elves had taken the time last night to give him their first impressions of Kreacher. They had expressed concerns over whether the Black family elf had been given time to say his goodbyes properly. The elves had their own way of laying the dead to rest, something to help them seperate their old masters from the new. Both mentally and emotionally.

The fact that Kreacher had apparently been locked up with the townhouse and not been given leave to mourn the passing of his mistress -- and likely not Regulus or Orion either -- meant he was still holding on to a dead bond.

Slowly poisoning himself.

Holding on for someone that was never going to come back, who he would only hear in the mad echoes of a portrait that hadn’t enough power to truly ‘live’ properly.

The house-elf bowed low, his long nose just missing the floor by a hairsbreadth. “Kreacher will do so.”

“Those are your only tasks for this day, when you complete them all let Bellial know and he will direct you to other tasks that need doing. If there are no tasks please familiarise yourself with the new layout of the house, there are a lot more rooms that need taking care of now than there used to be.” Harry told him carefully.

Hopefully for the next few weeks they would be able to keep Kreacher near the others or at least busy in places that he could easily be checked on. The changes in the house and in the guests were big ones and adding those on top of his delicate psyche were less than ideal.

So they’d watch him as much as they could and see if he could recover naturally given orders to complete and tasks to keep busy rather than wandering aimlessly around the old house.

Hopefully there’d be no need for drastic measures.

Shaking off the thought, Harry watched the old elf bow again before charming the teens used breakfast dishes over to the sink for washing.

Pushing himself to his feet Harry tugged down his waistcoat and strode from the room, making his way to the bright white marble sitting room that was situated just off the front entrance of the townhouse. 

He would pick up his ten guards for the day, Hildegara -- who had insisted on following him everywhere he went -- and Bill Weasley who had decided to play wizard guard for the day.

The group would be visiting Gringotts for a few hours to drop off tests and do some informal testing for some family members of people already settled on Volstar. 

Though for the most part those tests were largely a formality with only the psychological ones having any real bearing going forward. 

But still, if the rule was good for one person, it was good for everyone.

After that though was something Harry couldn’t really say he was looking forward to.

The Tri-Wizard Champions luncheon at Hogwarts.

On one hand if there was enough time he’d get to see Ron and Hermione and catch up a bit.

On the other, it meant more politics and diving back into a place where someone had tried to kill or otherwise hurt him every single year since he first set foot in the place.

However temporary.

And of course, where someone was now using a glorified death tournament to possibly try and do away with him.

Really, just another year at Hogwarts.

~*~*~*~*~ 

#### 11th November 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

The morning had been surprisingly chill and damp, enough that one of the first things Albus had done when rising for the day, had been to get the fireplaces dancing merrily.

Now hours later, with the sun well up his office, and by extension his attached quarters, were comfortably warm. It did his old bones more good than he truly cared to consider to be able to sit, well nestled in a comfortably padded chair, air well warmed and delightful tea and cakes warming him from the inside out while he worked.

The number of worries seemed to increase with each passing day. Steadily building atop each other until there seemed no end in sight.

Matters of politics and law running rampant while he longed for the days when his biggest worry was keeping the worst of the troublemakers from making too much of a mess while he worked on instilling an understanding and appreciation for Transfiguration in his students.

Not for the first time, he contemplated what retirement would look like.

Would he travel the world at leisure, hopping from country to country and tasting the sweet delights that could only be found within the hidden back alleys of each.

Would he settle down in a little cottage by the sea, fireplace burning merrily to stave off the chill air even as he threw open shuttered windows to embrace that bracing sea breeze.

Or perhaps he would open a little shop, hidden away where only luck might lead someone. Selling curios and ancient tomes, things that inspired wonder and curiosity.

It was a pleasant daydream, though one that would never eventuate, he was certain. Despite his advancing years, and he was over one-hundred now, and how he was aged well before his time by the stresses of war, life and possibly most damning, tenure.

There was still too much to be done.

Far too many things he knew he would carry with him in the form of regrets if he were to exit the stage now.

He found himself guided, as he usually was by some of the wise words that had been imparted onto him by his own Headmaster all those many years ago. 

When he had slunk into this very office as a young man, shoulders bowed under the heavy weight of grief and regret, asking the possibility of employment as a teacher in one of the few places he had felt safe and free.

_”A man might wander through life with the noble goal of living his life without regret, Mr. Dumbledore. It is the wise man, however, that understands that regrets are inevitable in a life fully lived. That instead he must weigh carefully the regrets he finds along his path and determine for himself, what regrets he can bare to carry with him.”_

He had taken that imparted wisdom, already knowing that he was carrying a heavy regret that he wouldn’t have wanted, but was forced to endure regardless thanks to his own short-sighted choices.

The weight of a life, both innocent and ended too soon, far too soon.

Try as he might though, the measure of his regrets only seemed to grow.

The choice to welcome a child broken before meeting, to ignore the instincts that whispered in the back of his mind that danger lurked behind eyes that were both pale and dark.

The choice to deny sanctuary in a time of great strife for fear of what that one boy might become, left unchecked. Not seeing then just how deeply that choice would mold that broken little thing into the very thing he had feared all along.

A regret of trust, of loss, of not enough hands to juggle a crumbling terrified kingdom.

Albus Dumbledore was a man burdened by his regrets, regardless of his best efforts to remain unbowed.

Was a man who seemed cursed to watch the end effects of fear darkening the hearts of men and beast again and again. His own chief amongst them.

But fear had ever been one of the most powerful motivations.

It stole away rational thought, screamed at instinct and silenced common decency.

It turned neighbours against each other, wives against husbands, children against exploration.

The fear of what if.

The fear of things that are different.

The unknowing.

The expectation of the lowest possible response, the most terrible of perceived outcomes.

The fear of death, of life, of pain and broken heart.

He had courted fear just as arduously as he had regret, he knew that, in hindsight at least. Long after the time for choice had passed and all that remained was memory.

He was also a man of extremes, despite best efforts to temper himself.

To court his darker impulses, then choke the self same impulses in others while the weight of his own regrets crushed his chest during his desperate search for sleep in the quiet hours.

To cast the defenseless into mundane obscurity when previously magics had failed to keep precious lives sacred.

The sound of a soft pop and the arrival of several figures dragged his attention away from his morose thoughts and pale eyes focused on the group that had appeared against odds in the open space of his office.

Eyes that were both familiar and not greeted his own, glowing vibrantly in the warm light of the tower office. A young King dressed far more formally then last he had laid eyes on him, back straight and expression neutral beneath a modest sparkling circlet crown.

“King Harry, welcome back to Hogwarts.” He greeted the younger man, pushing himself to his feet with more effort than he cared to think about. “You seem quite well.”

“I am, thanks.” Harry replied, bright eyes taking the office that remained unchanged since last time he had seen it. “How are you Professor?”

Albus offered the young man a small smile and gestured towards the plush seats. “Well enough, I suppose. Though this year has brought with it a number of shocks that my old heart could have happily gone without.”

“Sorry.”

“You, dear Harry have absolutely nothing to apologise for. I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you seem to have finally found a place where you can be truly happy and safe.” The old man told him sternly, blue eyes focused on the teenager over the rims of his spectacles. “I am only sorry that I could not help you find it myself.”

Harry shook his head slightly. “It’s alright.”

“I think we may have to agree to disagree on that point.”

“I think I can do that. You remember Bill Weasley, don’t you?” Harry asked, gesturing to his vibrantly haired companion.

“I do indeed. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Weasley, you’ve been well I hope?” Albus greeted the young man with a small smile.

“Very well, Professor, thank you.” The ginger haired wizard returned with a bob of his head.

Albus nodded in return and inclined his head respectfully to the goblins that had ringed his office, extending his greetings to them before sighing softly. “Onwards, I’m afraid, to far less pleasant business. We have a little time before lunch, so I thought you might like to see the Goblet for yourself. Remus’ last letter implied that you had discovered a means to analyze enchantments and the like far more deeply than most.”

“I would actually. If I recall correctly you placed an age-line around it during the submission period to keep anyone underage from approaching it?”

“I did, yes. The idea had been to keep our more notorious troublemakers from getting in over their heads. In hindsight and in light of our most recent years, I should have expected something like this would occur.” Albus admitted quietly, unable to keep the edge of sourness from his normally calm and composed voice.

Harry stared across the small distance between them for a moment, taking in the minute shifting of wrinkled brows, the creases around subdued eyes that very likely had little to do with laughter and the slight slump that was barely visible beneath the old man's somewhat gaudy robes.

He was self aware enough to know that a part of himself, the part that was frustrated with the whole situation, wanted to be angry with the old man. To blame him for everything that had gone wrong in his life, for the Dursleys, for the yearly near misses and now for the tournament that had popped out of nowhere and seemed intent on dragging him down with it.

It probably would have been easier, if he could.

If he just gave into the anger and frustration, to point fingers and storm off.

Though really, when had his life ever been easy.

“Albus, it took more than one persons lack of foresight for us to end up here.” He said quietly, having decided to let it go and move past the anger, at least for now. “One thing I’ve learned is that no matter how much you try, there’s always something else you’ve missed that hindsight is just as eager to shove in your face when you’re feeling low. The best we can really do is try to be as open minded as possible to the things that can go wrong, and right, and then hope for the best.”

The three wizards and the goblin guard remained for a moment in silence before finally the old wizard sighed quietly.

“You may be more forgiving than I deserve, but if I may say so, I think your parents would be proud of the man you are becoming.” The headmaster told the teen in a soft voice, wizened hands clasped in his lap.

“I don’t think forgiveness has anything to do with deserving, headmaster. It’s a gift, though not one that everyone can afford.” Harry replied before pushing to his feet and glancing about. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think the sooner I can pull apart the enchantments, the sooner I’ll have a better list of questions for the organising committee.”

Taking a breath to steady himself Albus nodded and pushed to his feet. “Right you are. I’ve had it moved into the side room where we’ll conduct all the meetings and interviews for the tournament. I thought it best to keep it all as out of the way as possible so it didn’t interrupt the rest of the students overmuch.”

The old headmaster moved around his desk and led the way over to one of the bookshelves and lightly tapped one of the books with his wand, causing the bookcase to slide to one side and reveal a hidden doorway and staircase.

“This way, if you don’t mind. A little headmaster's secret, out of the way of the usual traffic.” Albus told them over his shoulder as he led the way down.

Preceded by a couple of his goblin guard who would sweep the room for threats before he stepped into it, Harry made his way down the narrow staircase, absently noting the small bits of bioluminescent moss that seemed to be growing here and there between the brickwork.

They stepped out into a modestly sized room that already had a large round table and chair set up at one end for the luncheon. The Goblet was set to one side with some benches spread around it, no doubt to accommodate staff or media when the situation required.

Quickly changing course, Harry made his way over to the enchanted items and immediately reached out with his magic, using his hands to guide it to pick and pull the layers of spellwork away from the once mundane item.

He cocked his head, studying the softly glowing magical impressions his own magic coaxed to the surface, frowning a little at a dull swirling smokey thread. “It looks like someone used a Confundus charm on the cup.”

“Hm, the aurors that came through to investigate reached much the same conclusion.” The old headmaster replied, moving to take a seat on the closest bench, sharp blue eyes watching.

“There’s the laws, one name from one school each. The rule governing which schools could participate seems to be where the Confundus was directed, it’s still entwined around it...see here?” Harry asked, pointing out a mess of dull magical threads. “I imagine this is how I ended up selected once my name was entered. The only name not registered as a possible contestant of the three schools, therefore meaning I must be part of a fourth, and with the law confused, the number of contestants goes from three from three schools, to four from four schools.”

The headmaster made a small thoughtful noise, one wizened hand stroking his long beard as he considered the currently visible threads.

Harry shifted a little, walking about the Goblet and its stand as he studied each of the interwoven threads. “There’s no safeguards against someone other than the person owning the name entering it. No safeguards against someone older than a student entering a name either. No clause to break the contract in the event of tampering. No protection for unwilling entry at all.”

Finished with his own inspection of the room Bill moved to take a seat on the bench next to the headmaster. “So what, the folk over at the Department of Magical Games and Sport just pulled it out of storage, dusted it off and said ‘there you go’?”

“It does rather sound like that, unfortunately.” Albus replied, brows creasing in a frown. “Though I imagine most of them experienced the same failing as I, in not considering that such an old and prestigious tourney might be used for ill intent.”

“Probably forgot the golden rule.” Harry huffed as he let the magic rest back into the goblet.

“And what’s that, dear boy?” The old man asked curiously, one white eyebrow raised.

The teen cast a rueful glance at his old headmaster, arms folding across his chest. “That as much as we’d like to pretend otherwise, a lot of people are just kind of shite.”

Both older wizards huffed an amused laugh at that.

“Regrettably, there is that.” Albus agreed, leaning back a little now that he wasn’t watching Harry work magic. “The luncheon will be a rather busy affair, I’m afraid. In attendance will be each of the selected champions, the headmaster of each school, a representative from the media. Misters Crouch and Bagman who head the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports respectively.”

Harry inclined his head. “I also took the liberty of inviting Madam Amelia Bones, the head for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement so we can discuss security for the tournament and for the rest of my stay. Since no one bothered to let the aurors know a foreign dignitary was visiting, or apparently that someone had put my name in for the resurrected death tournament.” 

“You don’t think calling it a death tournament is a bit harsh?” Bill asked quietly, one brow raised.

“Nope, I checked. Since its inception at least one person has died during the tournament or directly following it after succumbing to injuries received during its run, every year it’s run. Except in the notable year of 1609 when all three contestants were reportedly assassinated before the first task had even commenced. Apparently a lot of colourful people like to make all sorts of bets about the tournament, the tasks. Even about the Yule Ball that happens during, which I think is a bit mental.” Harry informed him with a stern shake of his head. “Big bets too. Or at least they were big bets at the time. Inflation and all that. The last time the tournament was run, the chaos spilled out of the arena. Judges were killed as were some spectators in the stands both from the out of control creature and the panic.”

Reaching up to rub at his face, suddenly quite tired of it all, Harry huffed a sigh. Though he gave Bill a smile in response to the older man's blatant surprise.

“That incident is why the Tri-Wizard Tournament was retired to begin with. So really, considering that the very first tournament was held in 1294 and it was held every five years and at least one person died each one, more often than not it was much more. Children and organisers, volunteers - or people whose assistance had been volunteered for them...I actually took the time to add them all together from the records. It comes down to over several hundred dead people, children and adults alike.”

“That’s…” Bill’s voice drained away, much like the blood had from his features, his expression twisted up in a distinct lack of comfort.

“Rather terrible, yes.” Albus agreed, shoulders slumping and expression saddened. “So much wasted potential.”

“Theoretically, any one of those people could have gone on to invent something that would have helped the world. Instead all the world got was more grieving families.” Harry said softly, glowing gaze dropping to settle on the stone floor. “And I’m guessing from the lack of protection in the Goblet, that there’ll be just as much thought given to the safety of each of the tasks.”

“And there’s no way you could just drop out?” Bill asked, eyes moving from the teenager to the goblet.

The young king shook his head, one hand reaching up to run through his hair, which had grown a surprising amount in the last few months. “No, the laws of the tournament judge each entrant on knowledge, skill and bravery. A lack of those is punished. Cowardice, which failure to compete counts as according to those magical laws woven into the Goblet which grounds all the laws of the tournament, is repaid with lost or damaged magic.”

“Why?”

“An ancient belief, I’m afraid.” The old headmaster said. “It was believed for quite some time that magic was a gift to be used for Lord, Family and Glory. And that the refusal to do so was an insult to the powers that granted you that gift, thus, you were unworthy of keeping such a sacred gift.”

The look on Bill's face made Harry snort. “Yeah, mostly we’ve grown as people since then. Mostly.”

“Those rules can’t be changed?” Bill asked with a frown.

“Oh they can, just not when the magic of the tournament is active. Which is to say before the Goblet is activated to begin the process of Champion submission and after the tournament winner is crowned, or all contestants fail. And just to be clear, by fail, I mean die.” Harry informed him, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t peeved.

The eldest Weasley son looked from King to Headmaster and back again. “This is going to keep being a recurring theme this year, isn’t it?”

“Welcome to a year with Harry Potter.”

A few steps away, leaning against the wall with one gnarled had on his sword hilt, Ruknukle rumbled a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there she goes, lovelies, chapter 17, done and dusted.
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> For those of you that use Discord and are interested, there's a server made up where we all gush and "pterodactyl scream" over both this fic and other fics that members recommend. There is also a Q&A spot where members can ask me anything that's on their minds. Mostly that's been all about the world of APA, so there's a buttload of lore and some spoilers in there. If you're interested in sharing your thoughts with other geeks and hanging out, you can check out the link which can be found floating in the end-end notes *points down*
> 
> But that's all for now, so until next Monday, thanks for reading and I hope you have a good week. :)


	18. The Wisdom of Ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry pops over to Hogwarts for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, it's Monday in Melbourne and that means new chapter! *pantomimes wild cheering*

#### 11th November 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland

By the time the other luncheon guests had started to arrive, Harry was feeling rather pleased with himself.

He had, over a half hour worth of conversation, managed to secure free access to the Hogwarts library, including the restricted section.

But also the old headmasters personal library.

A library, he was promised, housed quite a number of old and rare tomes that had been collected or gifted to the headmaster over the course of his long life.

He was honestly looking forward to diving face first into those old tomes especially. No doubt the information contained would be more rewarding than trying to puzzle out why the Hogwarts headmaster and Bill had kept exchanging long rather blank looks while he’d been explaining some of the little things he’d worked out since he’d left England.

Harry had gotten the feeling that the invitation was an olive branch of sorts.

When paired with their earlier conversation and the few bits about the old man that the teen had learned from the goblins since his summer time dream of running away from the Dursleys had spun wildly out of control, Harry thought that it was probably motivated by a mix of guilt and a wish to mend potentially damaged bridges.

Possibly a few other niggling bits, but Harry wasn’t overly worried.

He had options now and more friends that were willing to stand by him.

Speaking of.

Harry offered Cedric Diggory a nod as the older teen sank into his seat at the table.

The round table had expanded from its original size to cater to the increased number of guests and Harry had taken it upon himself to section out the table. Carefully embroidered via magic into each section was the crest for each relevant body attending the luncheon.

The Ministry of Magic, the Prophet, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Hogwarts and Volstar.

There was space in each section for the number of delegates that would be attending for each faction, which of course meant that the Ministry had the largest slice of the table. Though it had been expanded enough to ensure that no one bumped elbows. 

The chairs had also been changed to fit the approximate size of their intended guest, their backs growing tall so as to display the relevant crest on the chair back above the guests heads as well.

A large round tray sat in the middle of the table, laden with tea, water and pumpkin juice.

It was a rather nice setup, Harry thought. Simple, but no one was placed above anyone else and everyone could clearly see everyone else.

To Harry’s left sat the rather large Madam Maxime, the headmistress for Beauxbatons and on her left sat the chosen contestant for her school, Fleur Delacour. 

Both Ladies had greeted Harry with a curtsey and had been happy to engage in polite conversation. Most of their questions had been geared towards sating their curiosity about Volstar, but Harry had expected to have to answer a lot of questions so it wasn’t too bad.

On the other side of Fleur sat Dumbledore then the Seeker for the Hufflepuff quidditch team and Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory whom Harry had chatted to on and off here and there around quidditch games. He had always struck Harry as a rather confident but down to earth sort who seemed to give his all no matter what he was doing. Something the young king could appreciate, especially now that he had had the chance to witness for himself what the benefit of hard work could mean for an entire city.

To Cedric’s left sat Mr. Bagman, who had been introduced to Harry as the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and therefore was in charge of overseeing the organisation of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Of course this meant that Harry immediately disliked the man, and after chatting for a couple of moments before the Ministry officials took their seats did little to alter Harry’s poor opinion of the man. 

Former quidditch celebrity or not.

Next along the table was Lord Crouch as head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation. He had been rather taciturn in his greeting, holding himself very rigidly even if he did duck a quick shallow bow when he was greeting Harry.

He had also, quite gruffly, apologized for the inconvenience of Harry’s unexpected entry into the tournament.

Which the teen had appreciated, even if it was only an insincere political move.

Following along the luncheon guests was Madam Bones, seated just as straight backed as Crouch, though she came across as less tense somehow.

Next to Madam bones sat Ms. Rita Skeeter, the Prophet reporter that had been dispatched to cover the Tri-Wizard Tournaments dubiously triumphant return. Though from the way she had simpered through her greeting with sharp eyes that failed to smile when her lips did, and the way those followed his every move, told Harry she was less interested in the Tournament and much more interested in him.

She was also accompanied by a Prophet photographer whose name was apparently Bozo.

Harry was not afraid to admit that it took an enormous force of will to not laugh in the man's face.

But _interesting_ names aside, beside Mr. Bozo sat High Master Igor Karkaroff. A stern man who seemed moments away from sneering at everyone, but who had greeted Harry with a small half bow in deference to his higher political rank who had kept his disproving and rather impatient glowering to everyone else.

He, like Lord Crouch, had dressed in rather somber fashion for the luncheon, heavy woolen robes in blacks and dark greys. It marked a rather stark contrast to the otherwise very colourful gathering. What little he said was spoken in low whispers to the Durmstrang champion Viktor Krum who sat quietly on his left.

Krum who apparently played for the Bulgarian National quidditch team as their star Seeker.

It was a little funny coincidence that all three of the male champions were quidditch players and all three played in the Seeker position.

Though admittedly Harry hadn’t been able to get as much time on his broom as he would have liked lately.

Maybe something to be looked into while he was visiting.

Lastly on Harry’s right sat Bill who had most definitely been sneaking peeks at Fleur since she had arrived.

Although Harry had to give him credit, he actually was being particularly subtle about it.

“Good afternoons everyone. Now that we’re all here I think we should get started. We’ve all been introduced now so we’ll begin this luncheon with our light starter and get stuck in to discussing the Tri-Wizard Tournament while we’re at it.” Albus announced cheerfully. 

He lightly tapped the rim of the table with a finger, which was no doubt the que for the house-elves manning the Hogwarts kitchens. A moment later bowls of soup appeared before everyone along with all their cutlery and cups and glasses for drinks.

“As I understand it, the tournament was at least historically composed of three tasks that champions would be scored on. Is that the plan going forward?” Harry asked as he reached for his own spoon.

Across the table Ludo Bagman nodded quickly. “That had been the plan originally, though with your...unexpected addition, we’ve opted to revise the tournament tasks that had originally planned to make sure all four contestants get ample chance to shine. There is only the matter of the first task that will have to remain the same due to logistical issues.”

“Speaking of that most unexpected addition, how does his majesty feel about it?” Ms. Skeeter shot in, one dainty brow raised.

“Oh there are a few mixed feelings, obviously. Frustrated certainly since the whole issue could have been very easily avoided, but We are proud to represent Volstar as a whole and show the world at large what We are capable of.” Harry replied calmly, offering the woman a small smile before turning glowing eyes to the other champions. “It’s also a wonderful opportunity to discuss education while we have the headmasters of three of Europe's most prominent and well established magical schools in one place.”

Madam Maxine inclined her head, soup spoon delicately coming to rest on the edge of her bowl. “Yes certainly. I am also interested to know how the schools of your country will be structured, the lessons and professors.”

“We would be happy to sit down for an afternoon this week to talk. We have some other obligations that need to be seen to, but We can certainly find the time.” Harry replied with a nod.

“On the topic of his majesty’s surprise entry, has there been any progress into the investigation?” Ms. Skeeter asked, eyes focused on Harry despite the question being more directed towards the Ministry representatives.

Madam Bones hummed quietly, dragging the reporters focus away from Harry and to her instead. “There has. We don’t make it a habit to discuss ongoing investigations. However, we will say that the Goblet of Fire, which is the semi-sentient artifact crafted to make the selection of Champions for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, had been the victim of the Confundus charm. Charmed into thinking that there was a fourth participating school of which King Harry was the sole Champion for.”

“Interesting, interesting. I’m rather surprised the other safeguards didn’t stop that from happening.” The reporter stated, glancing back to Harry.

“Unfortunately it seems that despite the level of political discord being what it was when the Goblet was first crafted, the enchanters failed to take in to account the possibility that a person might be entered without their knowledge and with malicious intentions.” Harry explained patiently, absently flicking his fingers and causing his glass to fill with water. “Unfortunately, that oversight had not been rectified prior to this revival of the old tournament and as such, there are no additional enchantments upon the Goblet of Fire to ensure it is not tampered with, nor to make certain that someone cannot place another individual's name within it.”

A rather faked gasp sounded from the reporter and she placed a long nailed hand against her chest. “Why, that would suggest absolutely anyone could be forced into the competition. Our very own Minister even.”

A few seats away from her Mr. Bagman shifted uncomfortably in his seat, face flushing rather unattractively.

“Anyone with magic, certainly.” Harry agreed easily.

“And how do you feel about that?” She asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Finished with his soup, Harry gently set aside his spoon and settled back in his chair. “While it’s quite easy to be worried and frustrated over what has happened, We find that it also serves as a valuable learning opportunity going forward for all involved.”

“Quite so.” Albus agreed cheerfully.

Skeeters eyes flicked from Harry to Albus over the rim of her slanted glasses before refocusing her attention back on the young king. “And you’re not concerned about the risk to your wellbeing?”

Harry cocked his head slightly, meeting her narrowed gaze evenly. “Less so than my Chief of Security. He will be meeting with Madam Bones and Mr. Bagman to ensure that no one manages to interfere with the competition again and cause undue danger going forward. Each of the tasks, if they’re anything like their historic predecessors, will carry a certain level of danger. Those dangers I believe each of us, as champions, are prepared to meet without reservation.”

There were several hums of agreement from around the table from the other champions and the empty soup bowls disappeared to be replaced with plates bearing a serving of seared fish over a bed of rice. It certainly seemed to Harry that the house-elves were really outdoing themselves, especially if the scent of the dish was anything to go on.

Though he did have to wonder if the inclusion of fish had anything to do with Hildegara having popped into the kitchens when they arrived to take over the preparation of Harry’s meals. She had been telling him for the last week or so that he needed to eat more fish.

“Yes, speaking of awaiting dangers. Is there any hint for our champions and our readers at home what kind of adventures the first task will bring with it?” Skeeter asked, turning away from Harry to fix her hawkeyed gaze on Mr. Bagman.

“Well, we do want to leave a certain element of mystery to the tournament. After all, courage in the face of the unknown is rather an important quality in a witch or wizard.” Bagman answered boldly, smiling expansively to the table at large. “Though for this first, in light of the...reshuffling we’ve had to do with the other tasks we feel it only fair to give all champions a bit of advance knowledge going forward.”

All four champions leaned forward in their seat, eyes fixed on the former quidditch star.

“In the first task the champions our four champions will find themselves faced with the might and ferocity of a dragon. The exact nature of the task will be announced at the start of the event itself, but you each have until the twenty-fourth to prepare yourselves.” Mr. Bagman informed them, looking to each of the champions in turn.

A ripple of quiet conversation picked up in answer to the news as each student turned to speak in hushed whispers with their respective headmaster. 

Harry instead turned to Bill beside him and offered him a wry grin. “Want to bet we’ll run into your brother Charlie?”

The ginger chuckled quietly, returning the grin with a smile of his own. “No bet. We Weasleys always find our way home eventually.”

“My, dragon’s, how terribly exciting. No fear then, your majesty?” Skeeters voice cut through the quiet conversations.

Turning away from Bill to give the woman a polite smile. “Quite the opposite actually. Of course We have a deep respect for such powerful and endangered creatures of magic, but We feel secure in our knowledge and abilities.”

“Not afraid that your confidence might be arrogance?”

The absolute silence that followed the question almost made Harry laugh, as it was he couldn’t keep his polite little smile from turning into a broad and rather amused grin. “Not in the slightest. We look forward to giving you a show, Ms. Skeeter, that our audience will never forget.”

“A bold claim indeed...though you have made a few since your return, haven’t you?” She shot back, elbows raising to rest against the rim of the table, lunch apparently forgotten. “Like your astounding claim regarding the supposed innocence of Sirius Black, one of the most famous murderers of recent British history.”

The other guests around the table had been watching the back and forth with rather varying expressions while they ate. Keeping quiet aside from the occasional whisper to the individual seated beside them. It had become readily apparent to just about everyone by this point that the reporter cared very little about the other champions and little, it also seemed, about the Tri-Wizard Tournament itself despite her being employed to cover the event.

Two of the three Ministry representatives were wearing rather unimpressed expressions at the direction the line of questioning had taken, with only Mr. Bagman focused more on his meal than what exactly was being said since it no longer had anything to do with the tournament.

Each of the other champions seemed to be unhappy with the situation, though Harry thought it would be a safe bet to assume it was for different reasons.

“I think you’ll find, Ms. Skeeter, with a little fact checking and due diligence that I did not claim that Lord Sirius Black was an innocent man during my recent and rather disappointing visit to your Ministry.” Harry pointed out, relaxing back into his chair and reaching for his cup with the same relaxed confidence that Goldhammer had been working on instilling in him. “I did however state that sufficient evidence had arisen recently to cast doubt upon his previous conviction here in Great Britain. Certainly enough to reopen the investigation into his alleged crimes.”

“Are you saying then that you think the original judicial team was inept?”

From two seats away Crouch went from displeased to enrage in a heartbeat. “Now see here!”

“Absolutely not, Ms. Skeeter.” Harry cut in smoothly, reaching to set aside his cup and refill it with a flick of his fingers. “We have every faith that Britain’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time in question took every possible action to investigate the alleged murder of thirteen souls on the thirty-first of October, Nineteen-eighty-one.”

He paused just long enough to give a nod toward Crouch before carrying on before he could be interrupted.

“We’re certain that they spent hours reviewing all the eyewitness testimony the investigating aurors took before the unfortunate muggle witnesses had their memories of the magic use wiped from their minds. Just like they reviewed the spells cast with the wand of the alleged perpetrator, and his own memories of the night and its lead up. Just like they no doubt tried to question him while he was under the effects of veritaserum. Certainly We’re sure they went to great lengths to ensure his guilt beyond any reasonable doubt of the crime he had been accused before sentencing the man to life in what most consider the most horrific prison the magical world has to offer.”

Taking a deep breath in he let it out in a sigh and waved a hand as if waving away the topic.

“As stated, We are sure Lord Crouch and everyone else that presided over those trials exhaustively reviewed each piece of information available. However, We also find that it would be dishonorable of us to not perform our due diligence to the man and his alleged victims after the matter was brought to Our attention. So We have requested copies of all the evidence collected, which the honorable Madam Bones has assured Us she will be seeing to, personally.”

Silence settled on the table as each individual shot looks between Harry, Skeeter, Madam Bones and Crouch.

Headmaster Dumbledore's own expression was rather neutral, as long as you ignored the slight twitching at the corner of his lips.

“Back onto lighter topics, there is a reason we’re all here, after all.” Harry stated before the dogged reporter could fire back again. “Are there any rules and limitations we need to keep in mind for our first task, Mr. Bagman?”

The man blinked, apparently surprised to be drawn back into the conversation. “What? Oh, not many, only that you research and compete under your own power. You may not be assisted by a professor or friend for this first task.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. We are the champions after all, not our professors.” Fleur reasoned with a small nod, though she glanced up to exchange a look with Madam Maxine who in turn offered a reassuring smile.

“Exactly. A chance to show the world how well you have learned your lessons and how clever and brave you are.” The Beauxbatons headmistress agreed, accent heavy with pride.

Cedric bobbed his head, a roguish sort of smile pulling at his lips. “I’m rather looking forward to it too.”

“Yes, a rare experience.” Krum agreed from beside Bill, though his High Master’s attention seemed more focused on Skeeter and the Ministry group.

Harry straightened in his seat as the dishes cleared away to be replaced with a serving of dessert, which was in this case a palm sized fruit tart of some sort. “Well, that means we have approximately thirteen days to research different methods to aid ourselves when faced against dragons in some way.”

“Hogwarts library is of course open to all of the tournament champions for their research needs.” Albus cut in, casting a cheerful smile about the table.

Around the table several murmurs of thanks greeted the assurance, though Skeeter and the Ministry group had fallen largely silent.

“What about tools?” Viktor asked, shifting slightly in his seat as he looked to Mr. Bagman. “What tools can we use?”

“Champions can only take themselves and their wands into the area. Once there anything you conjure or summon is considered fair use.” Mr. Bagman replied, tossing a grin toward the Bulgarian team Seeker.

Harry nodded, having had expected as much. Considering the sheer number of possible benefits that could be enchanted onto things like armour and weapons, it made sense in competition designed to measure each contestant's ability under -- apparently literal -- fire, to try and cut down on anything that might be enchanted by someone else.

That said, without knowing the exact nature of the test only that dragons would be involved, it left a lot of open ground when it came to preparing themselves.

Given the endangered status of dragons -- and the flimsiness of the human body for that matter -- Harry rather doubted they’d be pitted against the dragons in mortal combat. But that still left a wide array of possibilities.

At least he hoped so.

Confidence aside, he really didn’t want to add Dragon Slayer to his growing list of titles.

Pretty soon he was going to end up with more titles than Professor Dumbledore had names.

_Yeah, no thanks._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With the finish of dessert and polite chit chat that was thankfully focused almost entirely on the topic of education with Ms. Skeeter only contributing a few questions here and there.

Like almost all her questions that afternoon they had been, almost to a one, directed to Harry.

After Mr. Olivander had arrived to inspect each of the champions wands to make sure they were all in working order, she had remained in her seat, pouring over the roll of parchment her quill had been furiously writing on. 

She’d barely waved at her cameraman to get the expected shots for the paper.

But they had all posed, around the flaming Goblet and away.

In group shots, solo shots and pairs.

By the time it was all done and both the Ministry and Prophet groups had been escorted out by Headmaster Dumbledore Harry was done.

So, so done.

The difference between the two media interviews he had had so far were like comparing a grape with a tomato. Both technically fruit, but so different that most people either didn’t realise that fact, or they just forgot.

Regardless, he would definitely have to scrutinize the next Prophet to see just what Skeeter would end up putting forward for publishing.

Somehow, Harry got the feeling that he would be borrowing one of Gringotts solicitors for a whip crack response.

But he had gotten to sit around the table after they had left chatting with the other champions on a more personal level. Something that had begun very tentatively at first, but eventually they were all chatting as something a little closer to equals.

It still wasn’t quite perfect, but it was enough.

The atmosphere relaxed enough that even Bill who had remained largely quiet for the luncheon had joined in and offered his two knuts about whatever topic they wandered into.

And Harry would wager half the shiny things in his vault that Bill and Fleur would end up dating before it was time to head back to Volstar.

At least based on the looks they kept sneaking off each other when the other wasn’t looking.

Eventually though the free period the student champions had been given had come to an end and they had said their goodbyes in favor of heading to their next class of the day as expected, leaving Harry, Bill and Ruknukle to wander back up the dimly lit staircase into the headmasters office.

The rest of the goblins were sent off to do a sweep of the school aside for four that split into groups of two to guard the two entrances to the office.

Harry, of course, had made it as far as the first bookcase before he had pulled down a book and started rapidly absorbing its knowledge page after page before moving on to the next.

By the time Dumbledore had returned from escorting the other guests out and checking in with Professor McGonagall to let her know that Harry was there and had been given permission to visit the Gryffindor common room to visit his friends, Harry had already made his way through four books.

Bill had opted to spend the time by taking over Ruknukle’s English lessons, which Harry absolutely did not laugh about, no matter how badly pronounced some of Bill’s Gobbledegook had been.

“Ah, Harry, at it already?” The old man queried as he made his way into the room, pausing long enough to check the amount of tinder in Fawkes’ feed box before sinking into his chair.

“No time like the present, Professor.” The teen replied absently as he continued to flip and scan old brittle pages.

“Would any of you care for some tea?” The headmaster asked, looking about at his guests before calling up an unfamiliar house-elf to put in the request. “I must say, you handled yourself remarkably well this afternoon.”

Harry hummed quietly, carefully closing the weathered cover of the old tome he had been reading before setting it back on the shelf in exchange for another. “Not that it did much good. I get the feeling that Ms. Skeeter was after a very different story.”

Both Bill and Ruknukle huffed at that, though they opted not to comment.

Dumbledore bobbed his head a little in agreement, one wizened hand reaching up to stroke his long beard. “It did certainly seem that way. I took the time on my way back to stop by and offer my apologies to my fellow headmasters for the poor behaviour. It’s a terrible shame, each of the champions should have their chance to shine. To see those moments tarnished and stolen away…”

“Then the obvious fix would be to get them the attention they deserve.” The teen commented as he read.

“How do you mean?”

Harry paused, looking away from the book in his hands to the headmaster who was regarding him with interest, head cocked to one side. “Invite in another journalist, maybe more than one to make sure each coverage of the interview can be checked against each other for authenticity. If a reporter lies or misrepresents an answer or situation, it’s easier to point it out and hold them accountable if there are other papers that are publishing the same interview.”

“You think that will work?” The older man asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“It’s something that muggles do. They hold large conferences with the press so no one is shown favoritism and they can weed out any reporters that have a habit of lying and misrepresenting things. It’s a bit harder here since there aren’t many options in the magical side of Britain, but it’s not impossible.” Harry said calmly, thinking on the information he had gleamed from his media relations books.

Dumbledore hummed quietly, expression thoughtful. “Can I ask for your guidance on this, dear boy?” He asked. “I’m afraid I’ve never truly got on with the media.”

“Well you’re off to a rough start with Ms. Skeeter since she was picked out by the Prophet on the Ministry’s request. But, I do have an acquaintance at the Prophet I can owl. The reporter who did the interview at the Ministry was perfectly respectful and everything she wrote was the truth. Add to her someone from Witch Weekly and The Quibbler.”

Harry paused for a second, considering that before nodding. “They’ll each be focused on different aspects so they’ll cover more ground in a group. If you ask Madam Maxine and Mr. Krum I’m sure both could recommend French and Bulgarian papers to invite as well. Especially Mr. Krum, he’ll have had to deal with them with his career, so if you ask him about a paper or reporter that he remembers as being truthful and respectful he’ll probably be able to think of one or two. Then the foreign guests can have proper representation spread back to their home countries as well.”

The older man blinked at that suggestion but nodded, turning to receive the tea tray from the elf that had quietly popped in. “Ah, thank you.”

“As for Ms. Skeeter, well...I guess we’ll see what she actually puts into her article tomorrow. Depending on what’s in it I could take formal legal action and the Prophet theoretically have to apologise to save face and pull her off the story.” Harry added, setting aside the book he was still holding to accept his cup of tea instead.

They slipped into silence for a long moment while the older man studied the teenager intently, not for the first time since he had arrived in the office hours ago.

Eventually the old man sighed, expression turning a tad wistful. “You’ve done a great deal of growing since we last met.”

Harry shrugged, carefully sipping at his hot tea. “I sort of had to, there are a lot of people counting on me to know what I’m doing now. And that number is just going to keep going up.”

“Ah, yes. The Prophet interview in regards to Volstar was rather enlightening. I can imagine quite a few people might be keen to make the move to warmer sun and pristine beaches.” The headmaster noted with a cheerful smile.

“I can think of worse reasons to move.” The teen replied dryly. “Someone could be out to kill me.”

The old headmaster blinked, mouth opening to respond before it closed again without comment. 

Probably for the better.

Maybe, Harry thought, some people actually do get wiser in their old age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think?


	19. A Bumbling Band of Babbling Baboons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner Harry stops by to visit his old sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, depending on where you live I'm wishing you a happy Sunday/Monday.
> 
> Despite some unexpected issues with my internet I managed to get this chapter sorted, though it admittedly did fight me a bit all on its own. >__>"  
> This chapter brings us the later half of the previous chapter that I ended up separating since it seemed to run a little longer than I was aiming for.  
> Despite the chop, this one still clocks in at a bit over 5800 words, which combined with the previous chapter would have taken it way over the word goal I try to keep the chapters to.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Here's Chapter 19...

#### 11th November 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

Walking the halls of Hogwarts felt rather strange, Harry thought, when he was no longer a student.

There was no expectation or requirement that he rush off to this class or that detention.

Instead of Hermione and Ron as had been the norm for a traipse through the ancient stone halls, Harry was surrounded by a lazily trailing Bill and a small team of goblins.

And he wasn’t heading up to turn in for the night, only to visit for an hour or so before he needed to pop back to Grimmauld place for the rest of the night.

He’d already warned the goblins that he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get from his friends, though based on the looks that had been sent his way during dinner he thought it was safe to assume there would probably be at least one whack and a scolding.

Dinner, despite Dumbledore’s best efforts, had been an awkward affair.

Harry had been seated at the head table between Albus and Minerva, who had decided to quiz him on his studies all the way though. While Bill had been seated at the end of the table next to Professor Sprout who seemed happy to chat about anything and everything.

So with Volstar’s flag hanging overhead beside a Hogwarts crest bearing banner, Harry had answered question after question in what had to be one of the most unorthodox pop quizzes ever, while almost every pair of eyes seemed stuck on him.

When they weren’t bouncing back to a nearby friend to exchange what they probably thought were whispers.

It was the loudest quiet dinner Harry could remember having.

And that was including his second year when everyone thought he was a serpent-speaking maniac that was running around petrifying anyone and everyone he came across somehow.

Really the only person that hadn’t been staring at him throughout had been Snape who had kept his attention rigidly fixed on his own dinner plate.

Well, Snape and Bill. But Bill had seen and spent at least an hour a day with Harry for the last several months.

So really, the novelty had probably well worn off by dinner.

Coming up on the portrait entrance the teen was only half paying attention when Bill greeted the Fat Lady and gave her the password that Dumbledore had given them. 

One that was supposedly a master code that the teachers used to get around.

And really who knows what he would have gotten up to if he’d known it sooner.

He watched three of his goblin guards disappear into the round doorway to scope out the common room. Something they had all been insistent on doing despite his assurances that there wouldn’t be any threats to his welfare inside.

A few moments later one came back to call the all clear and Bill ducked in first, followed by Ruknukle, then Harry, then the rest.

It was just as warm and inviting as he remembered.

Scarlet and gold as far as the eye could see, overstuffed chairs, roaring fire and thick rugs spread out here and there over the warm wooden floor.

It was also rather overstuffed with students and a rather stern faced Professor McGonagall.

Though since her sights were set quite firmly on Fred and George Weasley, that just made sense.

“Hullo.” He greeted with a small grin, glowing eyes settling on Hermione and Ron who were standing front and center.

Apparently the witch took exception to that, because the next moment she growled. “Harry Potter, you absolute arse!”

“Language, Ms. Granger!” The professor huffed out, followed immediately by Fred and George.

“Yeah, mind yer tongue!”

“What filth!”

Harry huffed a laugh and stepped forward so that he was just an arms length from his best friends. “Sorry ‘Mione, it was a pretty spur of the moment decision. Plus, I don’t think either of your parents would have appreciated my dragging you off to somewhere miles away without a hospital.”

Ron gave a huff of his own. “You’re not wrong. Mum went absolutely mental when she’d heard you’d disappeared.” He grumbled, though there was a slight uptilt to his lips.

“Harry, you could have been killed!”

“Which is no different really, from every other year since I stepped back into the magical world.” He pointed out, shrugging absently. “At least this year I get to build a lovely little place built on a backbone of equality.”

She glowered for a moment longer before grudgingly sighing and visibly letting go of her pent up worry and anger. “I read the article that was in the paper.” She told him. “It sounds lovely.”

Harry smiled warmly at his bushy haired best friend, absently noting that he had apparently managed to grow enough since he’d last seen her to stand at equal height. “Can I have a hug now, or do I need to dodge a jinx?”

Huffing in resignation Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, forehead dropping to rest against his shoulder. “You really scared me Harry.” She whispered, a slight catch in her voice that Harry remembered from quiet conversations late at night in front of the fire, about topics that had always seemed too overwhelming and heavy.

“You were gone and no-one knew where you were or how to get to you...how to help.” She added just as quietly.

“No one would tell us anything.” Ron added softly from beside them.

Reaching out blindly Harry snagged his best mate's jumper and dragged him into the hug too. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

They stood like that for several long moments, wrapped around each other and the comfort that always went hand in hand with their togetherness. In the peripheral they could hear Bill distracting the rest of the crowded common room with snippets about Volstar.

Tales of rolling grassland and huge forests. Of deep mountains and sparkling reef filled oceans and sleeping volcanoes.

And all the while Harry wrapped himself around his first friends, was wrapped up in turn and realised all at once, just how much he had missed them.

When they finally separated again, it was because Fred and George had managed to break away from the rest and had bodily hoisted Harry up so they could carry him over their heads and plop him into the armchair closest to the fireplace.

Harry laughed at the behaviour, having grown used to it. Upon noticing how tense the goblins were though he quickly leapt to explain. “ _These two are Fred and George, sons of House Weasley and William’s younger brothers, like Ronald. They’re like Gyrundyl and Hyrklok._ ” He introduced them in Gobbledegook so all the goblins would understand.

At the introduction they relaxed minutely, though several focused on the twins with renewed narrow eyed. Not terribly surprising since the introduction compared them to a set of brothers out of goblin mythos who had, according to legend, been the living avatars for the spirits of Mischief and Mayhem.

Bill, from his spot on one of the very red couches laughed and agreed.

Fred and George exchanged a loaded look, having caught their names but not much else. A second later they both grinned broadly and dipped into heavily exaggerated bows.

“Fred Weasley…”

“...and George Weasley, most humbly at your services…”

“...oh most majestic of majesties!”

“Most kingly of kings!”

“Sovereignly of sovereigns!”

“Alright, alright!” Harry cut in with a laugh. “Enough you two!”

Moving to stand by the fireplace where everyone could see her, Professor McGonagall clapped her hands sharply to draw the scattered attention of the room at large. “Before you all explode with your questions, I have an announcement to make.”

A hush quickly replaced the loud din of the common room and all eyes were fixed on the professor.

“Originally we had planned to announce it a little closer to the date so as not to distract you all from your school work. However, given that his majesty must still travel on business and thus may not be available without sufficient advance notice, the headmaster has instructed all heads of house to make the following announcement.” McGonagall informed them, sharp eyes sweeping the room looking for anyone that wasn’t paying absolute attention.

“In keeping with the traditions of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, this school will also be hosting the Yule Ball in December. As such- '' She was overridden almost immediately by excited chatter and had to give a few more sharp claps to get attention back on her. 

“As such, students in years four and up are required to attend and of course have formal robes for the occasion. Students of third year or lower may attend if they find themselves invited by an older classmate. I do hope that I don’t need to remind anyone to be on their best behaviour.” She added with a particularly stern glower at Fred and George then Seamus and Dean. “That said, there will be dancing and as neither I nor any of the other professors wish to watch you carry on like a bumbling band of babbling baboons, each head of house will be hosting lessons in formal dance post lessons several times a week prior to the Ball.”

The excited chatter started up again and from their place kneeling on the fluffy rugged floor in front of Harry, Fred and George exchanged a long look before very obviously deciding not to do whatever it was they had thought up with McGonagall just three feet away.

While the rest of the students were chattering excitedly amongst themselves the professor turned her attention to Harry. “As is tradition, the tournament champions are to open the ball together with their partners in a dance. It is the only one you are required to partake in as a champion, but the fact remains. You will need to find yourself a partner as well.”

_Lovely._

Sighing quietly Harry gave her a nod. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“Please do.” She returned before sweeping her gaze over the crowded room. “I have assignments to mark, but I can stay and help keep some kind of order if you need.”

He smiled up at her but shook his head. “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. Hermione’ll keep everyone in line.”

The older woman huffed, though her lips twitched ever so slightly. “That she will. I’ll be in my office if you need me, I trust you remember the way?”

“Been dragged in enough times.” Harry replied with a grin and watched her roll her eyes before making her way out of the common room. “So, I bet you’ve all got questions.”

“What’s it like being a king?” Ron shot off before anyone else could even open their mouths.

“Busy.” Harry answered honestly. “It’s a lot of work so far, I draw up all the blueprints for the buildings and infrastructure then sit down with our master builders to make sure it’ll all go together. There’s volcanoes on the island so all the buildings and such have to be safe from earthquakes and when our rain comes it usually happens as a storm. And they’re honestly a bit mental how strong they are, so we need to mind that…”

He paused a moment, considering all the work that had been done prior to his return to Britain.

“Every piece of the buildings needs enchanting and inscribing with runes to make sure they’re protected, so that takes up a lot of time. Then to add on top of that there’s all the stuff I need to learn to be king, politics, psychology, media relations, law and a lot more.” Harry added, fingers lightly tapping on the armrests of his chair while he thought. “Then the stuff I’m learning from the Goblins...I really don’t have a lot of free time anymore.”

Ron made a face at the long list. “That’s a bit rubbish.”

“Honestly Ronald, a strong knowledge base is important for people in government positions, whether they’re a king or a minister or a clerk.” Hermione told him, sinking to an open space on the couch beside Bill. “The better educated Harry is, the better he can make decisions for his people. The same as the Minister for Magic.”

She cut herself off at that and turned her attention to Harry.

“I read that Volstar’s government is run as a diarchy, with the crown and ministry holding relatively equal power?”

The young king inclined his head. “Right, I figured it would be a better way of setting up checks and balances against corruption. The King or Queen and the Minister should work in harmony for the most part, with the Wizengamot acting as mediator and the deciding voice if those two roles can’t agree on a course of action. All government wages are locked by charter at a set amount to keep anyone from getting into politics for greed’s sake, and there are heavy fines and charges in place for Bribery, both the offering and accepting.”

“How much would they make then?” Ron asked, brows drawn in confusion.

“The yearly wage for the Minister for Magic of Volstar is set at a maximum of twenty-thousand galleons. Though that number can go down if they perform poorly. For example if they lay about all the time and don’t actually do anything to help progress or maintain the island, when their yearly performance is reviewed they can be docked pay for doing a shite job. Just like anyone else would be.” Harry explained, shifting his glowing gaze from person to person and making to include the gryffindors that were still standing about the cosy circle to listen. “And that said, if they perform badly enough, they can be sacked and banned from ever running for the position again.”

“Fascinating as that is your worship, what’s it take for a humble entrepreneur or two to set up a shop in your fair country?” George butted in before Hermione could do more than open her mouth, earning a huff and light frown.

“About fifteen to twenty-thousand galleons.” Harry replied with a shrug.

The sound of several shocked gasps spilled into the air and the teen found himself on the receiving end of several bug-eyed looks.

Holding up a hand to forestall any misunderstandings Harry pressed on. “That’s how much you need to have in your bank account. That’s all yours, minus the cost of your shop, home and the cost of a Retail License which is required to legally sell goods anywhere on Volstar. But you’re required to have that much set aside as a safety measure, the same as people hoping to move and take up permanent residency on Volstar. That money is your safety net, it’s sole purpose is to make sure you have the means to feed and clothe yourself. To afford a place to live, or emergency accommodations if something goes wrong. It also covers the cost of medical expenses from everything from over the counter potions to major magical surgery.”

He paused for a moment to take a look around and noted that the expressions of his former classmates had shifted from shocked to thoughtful.

“The last thing we want is for someone to make a big move like that and then find themselves in trouble and unable to take care of themselves.” He reasoned. “There are strong tax laws in place to make sure everyone pays fairly and that if a person or family finds themselves in a tough spot, that they won’t be driven into the ground with no hope of pulling themselves back up again.”

He got a few nods in return from that, though he noticed the twins did look a little disheartened.

“There are avenues in place to help bolster and protect people that come from low income situations or who are seeking asylum. We made up booklets of the laws and immigration information which can be picked up at Gringotts for the people who are thinking about either moving or opening a shop there.” He added then paused just long enough to make sure the twins were actually looking at him.

“However, some of the requirements can be waived if you have a sponsor with the means to cover those costs for you. For example a future employer or business partner, though you’d still need to sit down with them to discuss your options and what both sides would need to do to go forward.”

And because he was watching them both intently Harry could see when the idea took hold and started to blossom. He watched them turn it over in their minds before shifting their focus to each other where they held a silent form of communication that consisted mostly of barely there nods, shifting eyebrows and flicking eyes.

It was rather interesting, he thought, how two people could have an entire conversation without saying even a single word out loud. Or even with their hands.

“You guys should owl me later, there’s a lot of catching up to do.” He told them once their silent chat had seemed to come to an end, giving them an in to broach the subject in private if they decided to go through with it.

Sponsoring them, if they wanted to put down roots in Volstar, seemed a decent exchange for the Marauder’s Map.

“Will do.” They responded in unison, each giving Harry a small grin.

Turning his glowing green eyes away from them to look at the small group again, he noted that some of the other hangerson had wandered off or had otherwise been dragged into other conversations.

Turning back to face Hermione who had a familiar look of thoughtful consideration on her face, Harry leaned forward to give her a gentle nudge. “You should write to your parents, see if they want to visit Volstar over the summer. That way you can see everything in person.”

“I’ll owl them tomorrow, though I’m not sure if they’ll go for it. I think they had plans already.” She replied, biting her bottom lip as she frowned.

“Tell them there’s less than a thousand people on the whole island, the weather’s brilliant and the beaches are absolutely perfect.” He told her with a grin. “There’s even a brilliant barrier reef they can snorkel through.”

She laughed at that, giving him a fond look. “I will.”

“So what’s the deal with the tournament?” Ron cut in, frowning at whatever thought had popped in his head. “Everyone’s saying you’ve got to compete, but you weren’t even in the ruddy country, you _couldn’t_ have put your name in.”

Harry shrugged. “Whoever put my name in confounded the Goblet of Fire so it would think there were four schools taking part. But there weren’t any safeguards in place to stop that happening or to make sure a person couldn’t put someone else’s name in it, so now I have to compete because the magic contract the Goblet makes is binding and If I don’t, then it’ll damage my magic.”

There were multiple squawks around the room at that from their little group and a few others that were still listening. The very notion of incurring damage to a part of themselves that, depending on the damage, might never recover and therefore had the potential to effectively render the a squib...well, it was the kind of thing mothers scared their unruly children with to make them behave.

_Be good, or the spirits will come snatch your magic away._

“That’s horrible, surely someone can do something!” Hermione exclaimed aghast.

“Nope.” Harry replied, the ‘p’ popping just so and his expression making no mistake on just what he thought of the whole mess. “Any changes or protective measures that would have stopped this from happening has to be done when the magic of the tournament is inactive. Which obviously didn’t happen.”

They all stared at him, mouths slightly agape while they processed that before exchanging looks with the rest of the group.

“What are you going to do?” Ron asked quietly, expression sinking back into a worried frown.

Harry shrugged. “Compete and make a good show of it. I can’t do anything else, not just for my magic but now I’m king…”

“Anything you do will reflect back on your country.” Hermione finished, brown eyes a little sad.

“Yeah. Though that can go either way really, because if I actually do well, it’ll reflect well and people would be more interested in visiting or moving to Volstar.” He said with a small shrug.

“Still…” Hermione muttered, frowning just a little.

“Besides, I was going to hire you lot to help out.” He added with a grin, laughing when they blinked. “I can’t have any help researching or planning for the first task, that’s the rule. But that’s just one of four tasks, and they didn’t say I couldn’t hire assistants to help with the other three, or to do PR stuff.”

“PR?”

“Public relations. Basically stuff that’ll make me look good or get everyone hyped up to see me compete, or the others for that matter.” Harry added with a thoughtful frown before he turned to look down at the twins who were still kneeling in front of his chair. “Could I hire you two for that, make some stuff like badges and that for the tournament?”

Fred and George exchanged a quick look before turning back to the teenage king. “What did you have in mind?” The asked in unison.

Sinking back into his chair Harry thought about that for a minute while Hermione and Ron had their own whispered conversation and Bill wandered off to chat with some seventh years he had probably known when he was still a student.

For all their usual energy, the twins themselves waited patiently, watching him with steady intelligent eyes while he considered just what he wanted.

Eventually he straightened and with a flick of his hand conjured a sheet of parchment and a readily inked quill and set to writing a list.

“Between tasks you’d be best served selling quiet things, badges and pins, champion edition scarves and quills that are charmed to each champion's colours or school and their name.” He read out as he wrote them down, bracketing the idea between task day only sales and round-the-clock sales. “On tasks days you could sell flags and noise makers and maybe do fireworks displays if you can manage that…”

“Oh don’t you worry, we’ve got fireworks covered.” One the twins piped up, dragging Harry’s attention away from his growing list.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, we’ve been doing a lot of experiments for our prank product lines. Fireworks were one of the ways we were thinking of advertising our own store, when we get it sorted.” George assured him with a nod.

Fred nodded and raised his hands to emphasise his words. “We got little ones, big ones, spinners, sparklers, whistlers. We even worked out this great big dragon one, different forms of it too, east and west.”

“Yeah, we originally thought about making ones for all the quidditch national teams for matches. Only problem there was having the funds to source the materials.” George added with a shrug.

Harry cocked his head to one side, humming quietly. “I’ll need to have a chat with Mr.Bagman I think, work out licensing rights for this years Tri-Wizard Tournament to make sure the Ministry doesn’t try to make off with all the profits. I’ll talk to the other champions to make sure they’re on board too, since we’ll need their permission for their items.”

Fred and George exchanged a somewhat rueful look. “Probably need to give them a cut of the profit too, yeah?”

“It would be better, legally speaking. Although it’s also a good move in general I think.” Harry replied while he summoned up another piece of parchment to draft up a rough draft for a licensing contract. “It’s all well and good if you win the tournament, get the thousand galleon prize and ‘eternal glory’, which will last for a decade or so realistically. But if you don’t win, you get nothing but a pat on the back maybe. If we set it up so that each of the participating champions get even a small portion of the profits from the sale of merchandise with their name or face, or their school on it, then they get something in exchange for risking possible death or maiming.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“...it doesn’t seem so bad.” The twins agreed with a small sigh.

“You two are going to need your business licence, accounts and a suitable workspace set up and ready as soon as possible, though. The first task is on the twenty-fourth, so there’s only two weeks to get it all sorted.” He pointed out, frowning a little down at the draft.

George shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ve got the licence and the business account sorted already. Did that last year when we started planning to sell some of our products to our fellow students with discerning tastes in prank goods, yeah.”

“Right, though mostly we’ve been using a spare classroom or our room back at home to make our products.” Fred added, arms moving to cross over his chest while his head tipped back to stare up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “We’re going to need more space if we're going to be making stuff in these kinds of numbers, never mind storage.”

Harry paused at that.

It was certainly true that a single classroom was likely not going to cut it when they took into account both manufacturing but also storage of all the items. There was certainly room at Grimmauld place, they could easily repurpose the grand ballroom since it was by far large enough and unlikely to see any use.

Though that would add another problem since the twins wouldn’t be able to pop off for a visit whenever they needed to work or pick up stock for sale.

There was theoretically the option of trying to find a space for sale or hire in Hogsmeade, but the same problem applied. Even if they could get there every Hogsmeade weekend, that wouldn’t be nearly enough time for all the work.

Frown deepening, Harry hummed thoughtfully. “I think we’ll need to have a chat with the headmaster about borrowing or hiring space here in Hogwarts.” He said finally.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Hermione and Ron’s amused expressions had apparently turned to looks of outrage at some point and had been rejoined by Bill who was leaning arms crossed over the back of the couch.

“She seems a bit more like a tabloid journalist than a news reporter.” He told them, cutting in on their conversation after reviewing his memory of the surrounding conversations.

The trio looked at him, expressions shifting to confusion. “What?” Ron asked.

“Ms. Skeeter. The way she approached her questions, it struck me more like tabloid journalism. Chasing after the scandal, real or otherwise.” He elaborated.

Hermione blinked, looking from Ron and Bill to the twins down on the floor in front of the fire before looking back at Harry. “Sorry, I thought you were still talking to Fred and George.”

“He was.” The twins shot back.

Bill laughed, his expression settling into something both humored and a little rueful. “You get used to that eventually. Harry’s brain is kind of ridiculous nowadays, it processes things much better than normal so while the rest of us slobs sit in a crowded room where everyone’s chatting and actually properly hear one or two conversations close to us, Harry’s brain actually filters all the sound so he’s actually hearing and processing all the conversations.”

“What?” Asked Hermione, frowning. “How does that even work?”

“I’ll explain later if you want, but it’s a bit of a double-edged sword.” Harry admitted, reaching up to run a hand through his hair in an outward show of his annoyance. “Since I process everything, I get all the bad and embarrassing stuff too. Like, dinner was kind of a nightmare, hearing so many girls suddenly start calling me mysterious or talking about my eyes or how fit I look…”

He trailed off, grimacing and pointedly ignoring the voices he could make out on the other side of the room from them that were saying the exact same things.

“What’s up with your eyes though, a bunch of us were wondering.” Ron cut in, glossing over the bit of the conversation he didn’t quite understand in exchange for the more stand out topic. “Does it have anything to do with why you’re not wearing your glasses?”

Harry blinked, a hand reaching up to feel out the space his glasses usually sat.

Slowly, little by little, Harry had found himself needing his glasses less and less. After the surgery he had undergone a couple of months ago now, it had been discovered that without the major issues he hadn’t even been aware of, the poor summer diet and poor access to fresh air and sunlight, that his magic had set about to heal other issues that he had thought permanent fixtures.

The prescription on his glasses for one thing had gradually changed until, more recently, he barely needed them.

It was true that some days were better than others, particularly if he had been straining his eyes or had rested poorly. But over the last couple of weeks he had found there were days he didn’t need them at all.

Which of course meant he ended up either carrying them around just in case, or...

“Forgot them again.” Bill told him with a grin. “Wondered how long it would take you to notice this time.”

The boy king huffed and turned his glowing eyes to the oldest Weasley son. “I left them someplace again?” Hands moving to absently pat down his robes to check for them.

The tall ginger laughed. “Yeah, Padfoot’s.”

Meaning he had left them behind at Grimmauld Place when they had left for the day.

On the floor the twins perked up. “What’s this, how’d you know the name Padfoot?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a weighted look before looking back at Harry to see if he had planned to share the information now that Sirius was well away from Britain.

“I’ll introduce you if you end up visiting Volstar over the summer.” Harry said instead before turning back to Ron with a little secretive grin while the twins moaned and flailed. “My eyes have been glowing like this since I did the Excitatio Mentis ritual.”

“The what, sorry?” Hermione asked.

“Woah, you did it?!” Ron exclaimed at the same time, leaning forward in his spot on the couch. “The last one in our family to do it was Percy. Couldn’t really afford all the stuff for the twins, or me and Ginny.”

“Yeah, a bit ago. I found it in the Black library so I thought I’d give it a shot.” said Harry with a nod.

Hermione huffed. “Excuse me, what ritual are you talking about?”

“Sorry ‘Mione’.” Ron muttered, wincing a little at the way her tone had inched just a little closer to what they had dubbed her ‘angry lecture’ voice. “The Excitatio Mentis is a ritual that most pureblood households use to give their kids a jumpstart on their education...or to just cram as much in at once so they don’t have to bother the rest of the time.”

Looking a little exasperated by his younger brothers’ simplistic explanation, Bill took over. “The ritual, like most rituals, is a prayer to the powers that be, the spirits of nature. With it you craft a cushion with the correct rune array, pick out and light candles of particular colour and carved themselves with runes and then you sit on the pillow, light the rune candles and work through your chant while working yourself down into a meditative trance.”

He paused for a moment to see if the young witch was still following, having not had a chance previously to meet her and learn first hand the kind of information processing and retention she was capable of.

Though admittedly he had heard bits and pieces from his family's letters.

Seeing that she seemed to be keeping up just fine he pressed on.

“The ritual is only usable by kids, though no ones really certain why, just that when it's performed only kids seem to benefit from it. But the Excitatio, when it’s been performed correctly, gives the kid a window of boosted mental prowess. Knowledge retention, imagination, critical thinking, the lot. Mental pathways that are made while the ritual is still in effect tend to last much longer, if not indefinitely.” He informed her, then gestured to Harry. “In some rare cases, kids have even gained a measure of protection against spells from external forces that affect the mind. Although, Harry here seems to be the outlier there too.”

“What do you mean by ‘outlier’?” The frizzy haired witch asked, though in the sort of tone one would usually hear when a person was bracing themselves for bad news.

While Bill looked like he wasn’t sure how honest he should be, Harry decided to jump in.

“My magic’s formed a kind of shield around my brain and nervous system.” He said with a shrug. “We tested it out, neither the confundus, legilimency, tickling, memory or imperius charms work on me. I’m completely immune.”

“Same with stunning spells and just about every mind or nerve affecting spell we could find.” Bill added, since it seemed the boy king was fine with sharing the information.

Very suddenly, it seemed to Harry, the formerly bustling common room became rather quiet.

Quiet enough that it seemed he could almost _hear_ everyone staring at him.

Just his luck that this was the one bit of conversation that everyone should overhear.

Oh well, maybe he’d get lucky and the news would filter back to the press.

Wouldn’t that be a nice little slap in the face for Fudge.

Harry Potter, immune to the confundus.

That one spell Snape had claimed he was under when he, Ron and Hermione had tried to tell the Minister that Sirius had been innocent all along.

From his place on the couch Ron stared wide eyed at his best mate, a mind well honed processing over and over what the recent information might mean going forward.

Eventually, just like the room and the very gobsmacked Hermione beside him, his mind fell silent.

Left behind, the only thing he could think of that summed up all the moves and counter-moves he could think up.

“Bloody hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think?
> 
> We got to bounce around with our favourite twins (sorry Padma & Parvati), and bring Ron and Hermione back into the fold, so to speak.  
> Bill got to be a cool wingman and give Harry the space he needed for the conversations he needed/wanted to dive into (in a still very public place).  
> And yet again, Harry Bloody Potter.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter, in the comments and/or by joining our happy place of madness over at the Metalduck Garden discord server (link down bellow).  
> I can't promise you cookies, but there is plenty of Fam, Spice, a pretty cool Kat and an Oreo that's good times. XD  
> Anyway, this is a very metal duck, signing out... I'll see you all in the comments or on discord! *waves*


	20. Down One Side and Up the Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ponders the events of the last couple of weeks then dives into an arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Monday and Welcome to Chapter 20!  
> After a brief debate with myself (that may or may not have garnered some odd looks) I decided to jump ahead a bit for this chapter.  
> Hopefully none of you are too disappointed by it, but it felt better than the original plan for this chapter.  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter, be sure to let me know what you think in the comments, or on Discord.  
> TTFN!

#### 24th November 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

To say the last two weeks had been a bit busy for Harry, would have been a gross understatement.

Somehow it felt even more full on than being on Volstar rapidly drawing up blueprints for Skyfall’s many buildings while simultaneously drafting up the laws, school curriculum and everything else.

He had gone through with his idea to hire the services of his closest friends, for the grand price of ten galleons a week -- something that had seen Ron turn pasty white and bug eyed, before promptly choking on the butterbeer that someone had snuck in -- for the duration of the tournament.

This meant Hermione had been tasked with researching the past tournaments for information about the tasks that had been held in the past.

She would then pass the information across to Ron who would weigh the likelihood of similar tasks or creatures making an appearance.

Then together they would work together to research and brainstorm possible countermeasures to those hypothetical creatures and tasks. Information they would sit on until the end of the first task.

In other words, later that very afternoon.

It meant thankfully, that it kept them both almost as busy as he was.

Which was both impressive and a blessing.

Impressive because he had been almost constantly travelling going to meeting after meeting with what seemed like every magical world government that _wasn’t_ Wizarding Great Britain. And jumping between Hogwarts, Volstar, Beaubatons in France and Durmstrang way up in the northern tip of Norway, which was -- after months of adapting to summer heat on Volstar -- bloody freezing.

But the trips, especially to the schools, were sort of a necessity.

At least as far as he was concerned.

Although admittedly there were quite a lot of other people that were similarly interested in his work. Something that wasn’t entirely surprising when you considered that he was working with the divination masters of each school to set up a real time projection array that would record the events in the arena at Hogwarts. 

Then utilizing spells, runic arrays and powerfully enchanted crystals, that shaped and bridged time and distance --which Harry was pretty sure at this point was mostly the same thing -- sent the scenes ‘witnessed’ by the source array to the receiving arrays that would in turn project it onto a specially crafted crystal screen.

Or screens, since one screen couldn’t be segmented down into quadrants to show multiple different projections onto the one screen. Yet.

As things stood the screens had to be specifically positioned and enlarged to be properly visible to the crowds. Something that had taken most of the last couple of days.

Especially when added to the fact that he had to set up booths for Tri-Wizard merchandise at each of the schools and instruct the house-elves he had popped back to Volstar to recruit for the task, just how they were meant to go about performing the various tasks of retail.

House-elves who he was maybe, sort of, slightly hiding from Hermione because she apparently had developed certain opinions on house-elves which he most certainly did _not_ have the time currently to sit down and discuss.

So...hiding.

Just temporarily...for the moment.

At least she had been stuck on the topic of his viewing arrays -- which had been added to his steadily growing list of patented accomplishments -- after Seamus had put two and two together and had somehow decided that Harry had invented wizarding telly.

Though they were a long way off from broadcasting the wixen version of Coronation Street.

He had made a tidy sum though, from the British Ministry of all places. Once someone had realised just what his viewing array was capable of and how it could be utilized.

They had commissioned the construction of several receivers and their screens in several spots throughout the ministry building, most notably in the various cafeterias that dotted the building.

Though they had certain...additional protections beyond their ‘basic’ functions enchanted into them to protect them from being reverse engineered.

He really wouldn’t put it past particular members of the British Ministry anymore.

Especially since he had been in the building seven times to date and not a single one had been to talk to the Minister.

Needless to say the media at large was having a field day with that titbit.

Although, given the amount of horrifically bad press the man had been getting since Harry had arrived, it wasn’t particularly surprising that he should go into hiding himself or try to focus all his time on some other tasks that he was hoping to spin to his advantage and thus, turn the tide of public opinion.

But maybe he was projecting.

It did strike Harry as a bit odd -- or a lot odd -- that there had been such complete radio silence from Fudge and his office.

It’s true that he had received an owl from them not long after the original missed meeting --and consequently the first article in the paper -- but it had been only one. One letter that boiled down to ‘the Minister is busy, better luck next time’.

It had obviously not gone down well.

And that horribly patronising letter aside, there had been no additional letters on the Ministers part to try and set up a new meeting.

Harry, opting to be the bigger person, had sent three letters.

The first to acknowledge the terrible letter with his own little bits of snideness that was covered with a veneer of politely civil blandness that had made Remus oddly proud. The other two had been attempts from his side to set up a new meeting.

An upside though to all the back and forth travel, the backache that had come with being hunched over the crystals for the long engraving and enchanting process, and the political run around...Healer Graves had come through in a big way.

After originally going to pack the last of his belongings and turn over the keys to his flat to his landlord, Graves had wandered off to talk to some of his old colleagues about possibly making a move to Volstar. Or more specifically Skyfall and it’s shiny new and well equipped hospital.

His original hope was to sway one or two old friends that had been a bit dissatisfied with their working conditions when they’d last spoken. 

There were currently twenty-three healers, medi-wix, mind healers and researchers studying the laws in hopes of being granted entry.

Needless to say, the boy king was still a little floored by the positive response.

He’d been hopeful, sure, but he hadn’t expected people to actually want to make the move and give up their old lives en masse.

Although, finding out that there was no maximum work hours they were expected to work and wages that would have been rather laughable if it wasn’t so infuriating. Harry could see why they might want to move to a place that guaranteed fair wages and that their employer -- Ministry/Crown or otherwise -- couldn’t demand they work unreasonable hours.

Along with all the other benefits they’d apparently be getting that they hadn’t been.

It seemed no matter whether they were a part of the mundane or the magical world, people that chose to spend their lives helping others ended up overworked and underpaid. Or at least that was the impression he had gotten from the snippets of news and overheard conversations he could remember.

Either way, the recruitment drive was a resounding success.

Though that still left him with needing to find enough competent professors to take on the inaugural classes, whenever those were. Which also meant professors that could pass the rather intense psychological tests that had been drafted up to ensure they were stable and not a potential danger to their students.

On the upside, back in Skyfall the first set of house-elf flats had finished construction three days prior and he had been reliably informed by both Remus and Sirius that they were rather scenic. Not surprising since they were built with the desire to incorporate as many natural elements and as much living greenery into them as possible.

Apparently it’s finished state had been met with excited approval from the elves. Which had been what he had been aiming for with the designs. Something bright, lively and entwined with nature that the elves could live in their small family units just like everyone else did.

Much better than the forced separation that was usually the norm most other places, the world over.

Really the last two weeks had been ridiculously up and down with successes and failures. Enough that it was dizzying and exhausting, like those first few minutes of riding Buckbeak.

At least his work with Fred and George had been, relatively, a smooth line of successes. After meeting with the headmaster the day after his initial conversation with the twins, the older man had led him through the school halls and up the stairs to the seventh floor where he had been instructed to pace to and fro while picturing what they required in his mind.

He’d been admittedly confused by the instruction, but the cheery nature and mirth he had seen sparkling in the older man's blue eyes led him to shrug and follow them.

In exchange for his obedience he had been rewarded with a door.

A door that had opened into a massive manufacturing room with multiple floors and rows of worktables. It was brightly lit with old banners dotting the walls in faded pops of colour. Along one wall stood a row of forges, kilns and ovens, waiting for use. Various tools dotted the workbenches and the far wall opposite the forges and ovens had tall thick shelves that were split into two sections. One for raw materials and the other for finished items.

Dumbledore had introduced it as the Room of Requirement. One of the few truly multi-purpose rooms in Hogwarts, it had been deeply enchanted during the construction of the school to be able to fill multiple needs and had been given just as many names over the years.

The Come and Go Room, for it’s vanishing door.

The Room of Hidden Things, for its function as a magical lost and found. Though Harry wondered how anyone found any of the things they lost if the magic of the school picked them up and tossed them in a room that almost no one knew existed.

And the Room of Requirement, for its ability to mold itself to the want and will of the wix that sought it out. It could take almost any shape, according to the old Headmaster. From lavatory, to dormitory or as it turned out, factory.

He had given the twins the tour and a few elf helpers to really get underway after they had created the mockups of the items which would be sold from booths in multiple locations.

Like the one he had passed on his way to the champion pavilion that had been set up on one far end of the quidditch pitch. The pavilion served as both a staging point for each of the tournament contenders and a mobile infirmary. An infirmary that had been heavily stocked with potions and balms for burns, goring and blood loss. There were four large flasks of skellegrow alone, one for each contender.

On one hand, he was glad Madam Pomfrey and Snape had gone to lengths to make sure the infirmary was well stocked.

On the other, he was less than enthused about the approaching situation that made the heavy duty stocks a necessity. Hence the somewhat babbling internal monologue he had had looping through his mind all morning.

Confident statements made to the press aside… _dragons_.

He had done quite a lot of research on dragons in the past two weeks, thanks to Dumbledore’s personal library which the man had apparently built up during his research into the various uses for dragon blood. Which apparently differed depending on the dragon whose blood you had acquired.

And he was babbling again.

If Sirius were there, Harry had no doubt his godfather would ruffle his hair horribly and tell him he was thinking too much. Which was fair.

Harry was well aware that he worked best if he was jumping from problem to problem without getting too mired down in his own thoughts. Excelling in reaction rather than action.

It’s one of the reasons he hadn’t sat about too long planning the different actions he could take during the task.

Instead he had focused on absorbing as much information on the dragon species native to the continent, since he doubted even the most experienced dragon handlers wanted to try and ship a creature as powerful as a dragon across massive bodies of ocean.

But that was fine, it still left them with over forty species of dragon over the continent of Europe. Ranging from _Draco Major_ to _Draco Minor_ and all the cousins that still fell under the umbrella of _Draco Reptilia Arcanus_. Though he imagined they would aim for some of the larger varieties since they wanted a ‘show’.

Brute force and fire over virulent venom and acidic saliva.

Harry wasn’t too bothered overall, even as he watched from his place in the pavilion while Ludo Bagman gave a rousing speech to the audience and explained the task. From the judges table Madam Maxine and Highmaster Karkaroff were uttering their transitions into glimmering crystals for the audiences that had piled into their own school quidditch arenas to watch the spectacle.

Evade the angry mother dragon, retrieve the golden egg from her nest.

Super simple.

Closing his eyes, the young king took a moment to calm himself back into the here and now.

“Alright there, Potter?”

Blinking up to where Cedric stood beside him watching Bagman strut around on his small stage, Harry cocked a dark eyebrow at the older boy. “Perfect, you?” He shot back.

“Never better.” The Hufflepuff replied, tossing a rather roguish half smile down at Harry.

“Right.”

They both huffed quietly before turning to face Lord Crouch as he approached the small lineup that they made at the entrance.

“Alright, let’s do this quickly now.” The older man said, both expression and tone brooking no nonsense as he held up a small warded pouch. “In this pouch we have four small models of the dragons that have been selected for this task. Around each is a number to specify what order you shall compete in, since we can’t have you out there all at once.”

They each exchanged looks before Cedric boldly reached into the pouch and pulled out an angry writhing miniature dragon by its tail.

They looked at the small green dragon and its dangling number two tag.

“Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts, competing second against the Common Welsh Green.” Crouch called over his shoulder to an assistant who stood poised with parchment and quill.

Harry and Viktor glanced from the tiny dragon to each other then to Fleur, unanimously gesturing for her to proceed them.

She took a steadying breath before reaching into the bag, flinching a little before pulling out her hand, upon which stood a small red animated figure that snarled and hissed sparks.

“Going third, Fleur Delacour of Beaubatons, facing the Chinese Fireball.” Crouch announced.

Glancing from the green figure in Cedrics hand to the red one in Fleurs and then to each other Harry and Viktor exchanged a look before Harry shrugged and gestured to the waiting pouch. “You’re the one that’s actually meant to be here, you pick first.”

Shrugging in return, Viktor stepped forward and reached into the pouch. “Ah, participating fourth against the Hungarian Horntail will be Viktor Krum of Durmstrang. Which means competing first will be King Harry of Volstar against the Swedish Short-Snout.”

Crouch held the pouch out to Harry to pull out the last dragon figure before turning away to send the assistant off to the dragon wranglers with the dragon order so they could be prepared.

“So…” Harry drawled, poking at the animated miniature he kept balanced in the palm of his hand, watching it belch blue fire. “I get the fastest European dragon with the hottest fire breathing. Viktor gets the fiercest dragon that likes to gore its prey on its spikes. Fleur gets the most flame resistant dragon of the bunch, which just happens to like setting whole areas on fire to burn its prey alive. And Cedric ended up with the dragon with the most even temperament, but its talons and saliva contains a potent toxin that both paralyzes and induces hallucinations and causes an intense fever that will steadily climb until the victim boils from the inside out…”

He looked up from his own dragon, which seemed to be acting out a territorial display on loop, to look at each of the other teenagers. He noted absently that Fleur had gone a bit white, Cedric had gone a bit green and Viktor was frowning down at his own small dragon.

Beyond the pavilion he could hear the cheering of the crowd ratchet up in intensity, though it was almost drowned out by the angry roars of what he presumed was the Swedish Short-Snout.

Shaking himself slightly, Harry shoved the tiny version of his dragon into his pocket and turned to the tent flaps. He spared a few moments to focus on his own breathing, to calm his mind and quiet it so it wouldn’t get in the way.

He already knew what he had to do.

Get out there, retrieve the golden egg that was their target as quickly as possible. The Short-Snout’s eggs were tough enough to withstand their mother's intense breath. It was the main reason they were so sought after as an ingredient for fire-repelling potions. 

The golden egg on the other hand would not. Gold, Harry had learned from his association with the goblins, had a melting point of one-thousand-sixty-four degrees celsius. Blue flames meanwhile ranged in temperature from one-thousand-two-hundred-sixty degrees celsius and one-thousand-six-hundred-forty-eight degrees celsius. 

Which would make quick work of melting the gold, and likely mean he would ‘lose’ or fail the task by default.

In a stark contrast though that Harry was definitely trying not to think about, human DNA started to disintegrate at around sixty to sixty-five degrees celsius.

And it was entirely possible a small part of him regretted reading through anatomy and chemistry books right about now.

Cool.

Absolutely brilliant.

At least he wouldn’t be the shortest reigning monarch in history, that dubious honour went to Louis-Antoine of France who was apparently King for all of twenty minutes before he decided to abdicate back in 1830.

So...there was that.

Forcefully shaking off that errant thought he considered his options and his limitations briefly before nodding to Lord Crouch who had come to check on his readiness and wish him luck.

Which seemed to be genuine well wishing, which was nice, he guessed.

He felt a hand clap him on his shoulder then another heavier hand settle and squeeze the other.

“Good luck, Harry.” Fleur whispered from behind him.

And that, Harry felt, really was nice.

The insistence he had put on each of the champions being recognised by both the media and with his plans to make merchandise for the tournament with the Weasley twins. It had had the unintended effect of shifting the general attitude of the other participants from polite interest to a sort of friendly acceptance.

It was a pretty good feeling all things considered.

Being sent to face a dragon with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

What could possibly go wrong.

Hearing his name and the cheering on the other side of the tent flaps kicked up a notch, Harry figured it was his time to shine so he made quick work of shucking off his coat and rolled up his sleeves then pushed his way through the canvas.

It wasn’t until he was on the other side of it that he realised that there had to be some form of sound dampening charm on the pavilion, because the noise was very suddenly nearly overwhelming.

The crowd was going wild, both with their own shouted cheers and the litteral roars from people who had purchased some of the Weasley Lion Lollies from either the stand or from one of the Hogwarts house-elves that were wandering up and down the aisles with floating trays loaded down with snacks and merchandise.

From the sounds of it the Short-Snout was far from pleased with all the noise.

He really didn’t envy Charlie and the rest of his wrangler team.

Maybe he could stop by after everything was over for the day and bring them all a treat.

But first…

Sweeping his eyes over the arena floor he noted the craggy rock fissures and peaks that created a wildly uneven terrain. The height and depth of each were all over the place, some creating natural cliffs that were taller than he was. Cliffs that he could theoretically use for cover if the angle was right. The small stone ravines could form a similar function.

Although that said, they could both be used against him.

He could just barely see a bright glint atop one of the large peaks, which he assumed was the golden egg, and therefore the nest.

The nest from which the dragon was absent.

Glowing eyes darting up to the sky he caught sight of the dark shape against the glare of the sun trying to shine through the grey cloud cover.

A single point in the dark shape that seemed to become brighter than the rest had him sprinting forward in a panicked dash, magic whipping to the surface to imbue his spell. _Classepede_ was probably one of the more helpful charms he had found to help him during this first task. It’s name taken from the latin words _classemque pedes_ , literally meaning Fleet Feet, when performed correctly it doubled its users natural walking or running speed.

And Harry very much wanted to be running right about now, thank you very much.

He could feel the intense heat radiating behind him from the dragon's intense flame breath, striking where he had been standing and following his movement as the Short-Snout did.

He could almost feel his skin and hair starting to burn just from the ambient temperature, despite the lead the movement charm gave him. The teen had a moment of intense empathy for Charlie Weasley and the rest of his crew, who had to deal with the temperature routinely, and who had spent the last week painstakingly carving the protective wards into the arena that would keep the fire from touching it or its guests.

Harry though, he was stuck inside it for the immediate future, so he had taken to finding his own solutions. A quick flick of his hand had _Calor Vacuo_ washing over him, stealing away some of the bite from the radiant heat while he ran. Though the next gout of blue flame to touch down behind him was still intense.

After all, the charm had originally been intended for use in deserts and during intense heat waves in places with intense sun and little cover.

As such sweat had rapidly started to bead and drip down forehead and back as his body worked on its own natural counters to the heat, trying desperately to cool him.

A chanced glance up over his shoulder had his eyes widening as he caught sight of the angry dragon diving toward him, wicked talons extended, intent on either grabbing hold of him or to slash and pierce his rather flimsy body.

Without thought he dove over the side of the jagged stone outcropping he had been running across and into the closest deep trench, running down the side as quickly as he could. Almost losing his footing when the arena shook with the heavy impact of the Short-Snout’s unwieldy landing overhead.

Another flick of his hand had his body defying gravity as he ran up the side of the trench, along the side of the wall and around. Intent on getting out as quickly as possible in the event it occurred to the dragon to breathe fire down into the trench and let the rocky ravine itself direct the fire after him.

Shuddering a little despite himself at the thought, Harry focused himself on running, the sounds of the crowds long having filtered away as his mind prioritised the elements of his current life or death situation.

Something it had gotten a fair amount of experience at.

Above him the Short-Snout was roaring up a storm, belching fire at the ward protected crowds and inciting screams of surprise and fear.

Harry ran up the side of the trench, leaping up over the edge so fast he was momentarily airborne. A quick scan showed him to be closer to the nest than he had been, just a few ridges down though movement to his left had his green eyes widening as the blue-gray dragon turned toward Harry. No doubt tracking his movement in turn.

Without thinking he grabbed for his magic, yanking it to the surface as he felt himself beginning to drop.

He roughly shoved his fist forward and let the Raising Jinx fly at the grounded dragon, proving it worked just as well on the enraged fire breathing magical lizard as it had on the mildly ticked off cobra back in his second year.

The Short-Snout went shooting up into the air, body twisting and turning in a total lack of coordination, screaming fire every which way as it fought to right itself while Harry roughly landed and shot up the rocky ledges that stood between himself and the nest.

No sooner had he reached the nest than intense light and heat came roaring toward him, the dragon having managed to right itself mid-air much faster than he had anticipated.

With no time to both grab the golden egg and dodge out of the way, and knowing that it would melt if he didn’t somehow save it from a fiery molten end the teen reacted on instinct, throwing his magic into the only thing he could think of in the split second he had.

He remembered a conversation he had had with Bill and Mr. Bolder and Jack at the Seeker’s Rest months ago now, about the nature of magic and power and the meanest building block that made up all things in existence.

Energy, he had told them, everything was made of energy.

And if you could mold one form of energy a person could theoretically mold any form of it.

You just had to connect with it right.

Butterflies exploded into flight in front of him, transfigured from the blue flames that had been racing toward him and the unprotected nest.

Up and out the fluttered, dancing around the arena with not a care in the world as more and more joined them. Vaguely Harry was aware of the fact that his whole body was glowing as he threw his magic and will into the task at hand and not just his eyes, but it was a secondary kind of awareness.

Something that existed on his periphery like the roaring of the crowds surrounding the arena and the breathless scream of the fire being belched at him.

Eventually the fire tapered off as the dragon ran out of breath and Harry, still a bit high on the massive flow of magic that usually slept untouched in his core decided to try something that might seem a little silly.

Once he had enough time for hindsight to become a thing at least.

Standing tall and glowing bright with power Harry extended a hand and made a sharp downward motion, and then between one blink and the next, the dragon was gone.

In its place stood a creature much smaller than what had been there less than a second ago.

Where the fierce dragon had stood heaving, gearing up for another attack, stood instead the angriest looking duck Harry had ever seen.

Blinking at the bird as it swayed and looked around from its new much lower perspective, Harry cocked his head, more than a little flabbergasted that his half second plan had worked and he had actually managed to transfigure the dragon into a much less dangerous creature.

He could almost hear Sirius screaming in the back of his head -- he wasn’t of course, everyone that had one of the seven communication ear cuffs had sworn not to contact him during the tournament tasks unless -- raving about what he’d gone and done for all the world to see.

Well, not the world. But certainly a decent chunk with the projection relay sharing the events of the arena with several other specially selected venues.

Still, dragons were notorious resistant to external forces of magic, their own internal magics acting as a form of shield against it.

So really forcefully transfiguring a living breathing -- fire or otherwise -- dragon was probably the most ‘Harry’ thing he had done in a long time. 

At least according to what Bill and Sirius said about him.

Which was probably why the arena had fallen into an absolute sort of silence.

Well, unless you counted the quaking.

Shrugging off the thought -- and the deafening silence -- Harry crouched down and carefully extracted the golden egg from the nest, momentarily surprised at how warm it had become just from proximity to the real dragon eggs.

Seeing him juggle the rather hot golden egg from hand to hand seemed to jostle the crowd out of its shock and everyone was back to screaming cheers and waving their noise makers around in a tizzy.

Tucking the egg under one arm he took a moment to wave at the screaming masses, particularly where he knew Ron and Hermione were sitting and with a grin -- and a last glance at the duck-dragon that had decided to try and chase him and peck at his shins -- Harry made his way back towards the pavilion.

Passing through the entryway he had a brief moment of vindictive spite when the small form shifted dragon ran into the barrier separating the large tent from the arena before he was swept up by the other champions.

The young teen endured energetic hugs and hearty back slaps before he was set upon by Madam Pomfrey and Healer Graves who had apparently arrived while Harry had been busy in the arena.

He endured the hovering and rapidly cast diagnostic spells with all the grace of a hospital flight risk, but sprawled out in the chair he had been nudged into, grimacing a little as he became more aware of the way he was drenched in sweat.

A negligent wave had the sweat cleaned from his body, his clothes back in pristine form and his hair -- wild and dismissive of external forces -- managing to settle into what Sirius teasingly told him looked like the results of a good time.

Whatever that meant.

With an idle hand he stroked the golden egg laying beside his thigh on the chair and instead turned inward to focus on his magic, feeling it roiling just beneath the surface still. Far from the placid pool he was more familiar with.

Despite all the activity he had become used to since arriving on Volstar in the place that would become its capital city, Skyfall. Harry hadn’t really done much in the way of big magic, or even the middling sort that required a little more energy and focus than the odd charm.

In the last two weeks he had exercised a rather grand amount of magic than he was used to. Possibly more than he had ever used before.

At least consciously.

It would be a lie to say the feeling wasn’t entirely exhilarating, to feel that pull, the rush.

And a little part of him wondered if all the talk he had heard about so called ‘dark magic’ -- which most of the time wasn’t Dark magic at all if one was talking about the eight primary elements that made up spellcraft in general --had less to do with the kind of spell or associated element and more to do with how much of a person's own magic pool it actually used or otherwise stirred into action.

If most people had gotten so used to doing small day-to-day charms that they just forgot what it actually felt like. What it felt like to actually use and immerse themselves in one of the most honest parts of themselves. One of the deepest ties to Soul and Family that a person with magic actually had.

Thinking on that a moment, Harry thought that overall the rush he was feeling might actually be closer to the one he experienced at the end of a thorough training session with Ruknukle than something truly esoteric.

A good workout that left muscles pleasantly aching and he himself a little winded and tired but also a little like he could happily roll about on the floor and laugh at almost anything, before jumping up and doing it all again.

Endorphins, adrenaline and dopamine.

Although, given the feeling, he did wonder if a stronger pull at his magic or otherwise a more immersive use of it might not also trigger the release of nitrogen oxide, serotonin, and noradrenaline.

Harry blinked a moment as he considered that and felt his face warm a little despite himself.

Perhaps, he thought, it might be a good idea to be mindful of big magic uses...or at least where he was when he did them.

If he was right, the outcome had the potential to be incredibly mortifying.

He was pretty sure his fourteen year old self was far from ready to deal with the emotional fallout of something like that than he would like. Regardless of his newer more improved rational drive.

There were some things a teenage boy just did not deal well with.

He registered the uptick in cheering from beyond the tent flaps and focused again on the area directly around him. Seeing Cedric striding toward the exit, shoulders back and wand in hand.

“Good luck Cedric!” He called out, getting a quick grin in return from the older teen before he ducked out of sight.

A steaming mug entered his periphery and he turned to see Healer Graves holding out a mug whose contents slightly shimmered. “Here, drink up. You’re just a touch dehydrated from all the sweating and running about, this will help balance you out again.”

“Oh, thanks.” He murmured and took the mug, giving it an idle sniff and finding it smelled like an odd blend of camomile, banana and coconut. “Smells nice.”

“It can’t all be mucus and bilgewater.” The Healer replied with an amused look. “You managed to get through the task without injury though, so I’m thankful.”

Harry huffed a laugh as took a sip of his pleasant smelling drink. “So am I.”

Shaking his head at the familiar attitude the older man sighed. “I already briefed everyone that you were fine despite the proximity, but you might want to say something yourself. Sirius and Remus aren’t going to relax unless they hear from you themselves.”

He paused a moment, thinking that over before humming. “Particularly Sirius, he’s developed a touch of what I’d nearly call obsessive codependency. At least when it comes to your general welfare. He really needs you to be alright at the moment in order to properly relax and be okay himself.”

The teen nodded slightly as he sipped at his drink. “I know, he’s been getting better, it’s just the really dangerous stuff like this that gets to him.” He replied quietly so he wouldn’t be overheard. “He’s been keeping up with his therapy homework, without bullying too. He’s been doing really well.”

Graves hummed and nodded. “He has. He’s come a long way in the months since we all arrived on Volstar and got to work.” He agreed before sighing. “Still, for the moment he needs you to check in, or better yet, be able to check on your himself.”

Harry shrugged, draining the last of his cup and offering the empty mug back to his Healer. “That’s fine, I’ll see about us popping back to Skyfall in time for dinner. Then we can catch up properly in person and he can gush about the duck.”

The older man laughed, shaking his head at the teen. “I think you’ll be adding duck morphing dragons to all that merchandise you and the Weasley twins have been making.”

“Probab...oh.”

“Is something wrong?” Graves asked, his own amused expression slipping in concern.

“What, oh, no. Nothing wrong, I just had an idea.” Harry assured him, head tilting back as he stared at the pavilion canopy while he processed it.

Relaxing a bit the older man sighed and turned to head off. “Right, then I’ll leave you to that, unless it’s something you need me for?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Harry muttered, brows furrowing a little as he pondered his current problem.

How to mass produce a memory.

He knew theoretically it could be done.

A person could extract a memory or make a copy of a memory and put it in something like a pensieve for later review on a more immersive scale than the typical walk down memory lane. Or just keep them stored in crystal phial for more long term storage.

It wouldn’t take much work to craft a crystal ball that would replay a memory over and over. Though the longer the memory the better it would be if the viewer could control when that loop started to play or even control how quickly the playthrough happened or even if they could freeze the memory at a certain point.

He knew from his divination studies that when a prophecy was made a memory of its telling was sealed in a specially enchanted crystal ball that would protect and preserve it. However that was, again, a singular copy of a memory and often much shorter in length than, say, a round of a tournament task.

So again, not that helpful when it came to the production of a couple hundred copies of the same memory.

Letting out a breath in a long slow sigh Harry let himself sink further into his chair and, listening to the shrieks and cheers of the crowds beyond the canvas walls -- and the roaring of the ticked off Welsh Green -- as he wondered why he seemed to gravitate to the oddly difficult magical projects.

Eventually, as Cedric stumbled back into the champions pavilion, looking a little worse for wear but clutching his own golden egg, Harry offered his congratulations and then well wishes to Fleur.

That done he turned inward, seeking out the quiet buzz in the back of his mind he knew to be Sirius, thanks to the connection between crown and cuffs.

_”Sirius?”_

_”Pup!”_

He didn’t even bother to try and keep the answering grin from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quack Quack Mothaduckers!
> 
> I absolutely could not resist...though to be fair, I didn't try particularly hard.
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoyed Chapter 20, I ended up cutting it down a little since the scene I originally had planned to wrap it up with wasn't quite working the way I wanted it to. So rather than get mad at it and possibly end up delaying the chapter while I tried to make it work, I opted to exclude it in favour of reworking it and seeing if it would be better in the next chapter or if I should just scrap it entirely.  
> NGL, it was very frustrating and I don't often get so mad at a chapter that I have to get up and walk away for a bit. Ugh.
> 
> I'm pretty happy how ch20 ended up without it. I think it flows pretty well.  
> But let me know what you think, a second (or twenty-eth) opinion certainly wouldn't hurt.


	21. Foul Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the tournament and Harry takes stock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, Happy Monday.  
> The trials and tribulations have been rife IRL this past week, but I still managed to put together a chapter that I'm mostly happy with, if not entirely.  
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think either in the comments or on discord (link in the end)!

#### 25th November 1994 - 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

>   
>  _**Minister Rushed To Hospital; Foul Play Suspected!** _
> 
> _Late last night Minister for Magic Cornelius was rushed to St.Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries after he was discovered unconscious on the floor of his office by a Ministry official._
> 
> _It is unclear why the Minister was in office after hours as early investigation has revealed that he had in fact gone home as per his regular schedule in the early evening, but an anonymous source has told The Prophet that traces of poison were found in a tea set that was found at the scene. Along with two teacups, strongly implying that there had been at least one other individual in attendance._
> 
> _Which begs the question, who were they? The poisoner perhaps? Another victim?  
>  Who stands to gain from the untimely demise of the Minister?_
> 
> _Investigation into the Ministries Guest Log book shows no unusual or at least no unexpected names and so far no one has come forward with information. But this reporter does wonder how difficult such things are to silence?_
> 
> _At the time of this article's creation the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has made no official statement aside to report that the investigation was ongoing and that they urge concerned citizens to remain calm._
> 
> _Similarly St.Mungo’s Head of Staff Nigel Witherwick states on behalf of St.Mungo’s that they are doing everything they can to care for the Minister. Though a staff member who wished to remain unnamed did tell this humble reporter that the standard treatments had shown little effect and that a specialist was purportedly being called in to assist._
> 
> _This, I’m sure dear readers you will whole-heartedly agree, is deeply troubling news. After all the Poison and Magical Toxin division of St.Mungo’s has been heralded several times in the past as being state of the art and without peer._
> 
> _Which leaves this troubled reporter to wonder, as I’m sure you all must…  
>  Just what type of evil substance was used on our Minister?  
>  And similarly, just how _
> 
> _powerful must it be that our much lauded hospital is having to call in additional help? I give you my word that I shant rest till the truth has been uncovered, dear readers. The public deserves answers. This has been Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet._ 


Staring down at the morning paper Harry pondered the bizarre nature that was apparently Wizarding Great Britain.

After all, back on Volstar they managed to go about their business, to work, to home, to visit one of the sprawling public gardens that had popped up between houses.

The days were peaceful and any disagreements between the settlers had been kept civil.

There had certainly not been any assassination attempts.

Britain, or at least it’s magical half, seemed to be intent on doing its own thing.

Which was now a second assassination attempt. First against himself, now against Fudge.

He really didn’t know what to think.

As far as he had been able to see from his few visits to the Ministry there in England, there had been no obvious signs of discord. At least aside from the fact that apparently barely anyone talked to anyone in another department, unless it was to gossip.

Although that said, he had been under a joint auror/goblin task force to make sure anything unsavory, potentially damaging or otherwise sensitive stayed well away from him. So he was reviewing those trips with a bushel of salt.

Still, it all begged the question; Why?

Why an assassination attempt? Why poison? When then and not earlier, or later?

Did it have something to do with the bumbling of their failed meetings?

Was the responsible individual the _cause_ of their failed meetings or someone that had gotten sick of the mess and had decided to get Fudge out of the way?

Although, if the last was true, why use poison when the Wizengamot was -- according to rumour -- just a hair's breadth away from calling a vote of no confidence in the Minister?

There were entirely too many unknowns for even his enhanced mind to come to anything more than supposition and conjecture. Two things that he was less than fond of, given his history of being on the receiving end of them.

It was Wednesday and just past mid-morning when he had finally decided to pull himself out of bed, opting for a very rare lazy morning since he had made sure to keep the day post tournament task free from official business in case he needed to reset or recover.

As it turned out he had needed neither, but he had opted to have a lie-in regardless to ponder over the events of the previous day.

And after waking from an oddly intense but barely coherent dream that had more to do with things like hormones than he really wanted to bother with just yet.

But he had gotten up, treated himself to an equally lazy shower before wandering down to have breakfast in the kitchen, as had become the norm.

Both Bill and Healer Graves were absent, having left at some point to take care of their own tasks for the day. Which was out to visit his brother Charlie in Bill’s case, and to visit a friend in Healer Graves'.

Which meant it was just Harry, the house-elves and the goblins knocking about in Grimmauld for the day.

Kreacher, Harry had noticed, had been particularly attentive since he had returned from caring for the Black mausoleum. Taking turns with Hildegara to take care of all of Harry’s basic needs while he was at ‘home’. As such he had found breakfast ready and waiting, fresh from the stove when he had finally made an appearance.

Quite a difference from what Sirius had told him he should expect.

Eyeing the article again, Harry bit at his bottom lip, knowing that the mystery of it all would likely eat away at the back of his mind just like the mystery of the Philosopher’s Stone, or the whole Chamber of Secrets mess.

He wasn’t particularly good at leaving curious things alone, never had been really.

Tearing glowing eyes away from the article he eventually spared time for the next -- noting absently that it seemed to take up most of the page -- and hummed quietly, leaning out of the way so Kreacher could clear away the dishes and refill his tea.

>   
>  _**Magical Marvels! TriWizard Tournament Starts With A Bang!** _
> 
> _As many of our readers are aware, the First Task of the resurrected Tri-Wizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday afternoon with many of us both here in Britain and abroad able to spectate thanks to the groundbreaking inventions of one of the young Champions._
> 
> _King Harry of the recently founded magical kingdom Volstar, has been wowing the world left and right with his many awe inspiring actions. The least of which actually seems to be the aforementioned kingdom founding. The first of its kind in centuries!_
> 
> _Some of our treasured readers were lucky enough to be in attendance at one of several very lucky spots yesterday and were able to watch the events of the First Task over distance thanks to King Harry’s ‘Viewing Array’ invention, a collection of crystals whose exact method of function and creation have understandable been patented and remain secret, but whose functions allow to the sending of image and sound to their linked crystals._
> 
> _And in an amazing twist, this revolutionary magical advancement (which may soon see magical households watching dramatic presentations in the comfort of their own homes like muggles do with their ‘television’) is not the most spectacular thing we lucky few were able to experience yesterday._
> 
> _Yes readers, I’m talking about the shocking spectacle that was King Harry’s completely wandless match against a fierce Swedish Short-Snout!_
> 
> _That’s right readers, from start to finish, keen eyed viewers were able to note that His Majesty faced the Task completely wandless from start to finish. Though given the amount of noise and chaos in the arena made the action quite fast paced indeed, I (and everyone I questioned to ensure I had not in fact imagined the feat) did indeed see a lack of magical foci._
> 
> _And His Majesties magic was in top form. From gravity dampening and heat resistance charms to the show stopper of all showstoppers._
> 
> _The wandless and completely nonverbal transfiguration of both the Short-Snout’s bluefire into tens of thousands of what I’ve been assured is a brand new species of purely magical butterfly which has been tentatively named the Starfire Butterfly for various reasons (see more about this miracle of magic that bends the laws of transfiguration and life itself on page 4!), but also, **THE FORCED TRANSFIGURATION OF THE DRAGON ITSELF INTO A COMMON DUCK.**_
> 
> _Please take a moment to read that helpfully capitalised and bolded titbit._
> 
> _You have not misread. If you have heard the gossip already washing over the world, you have not misheard and nor have any of those lucky enough to witness the event first hand miss-spoken or misunderstood what they have witnessed._
> 
> _No confundus. No Illusion. No Mistake._
> 
> _The most powerful practitioner to walk the world in centuries stands among us, a gentle fourteen years of age._
> 
> _He wasn’t the only one to impress, of course. Each of the four Tri-Wizard Champion wowed the crowds with their creative mastery of their magic and abilities. All of whom managed to succeed in their task and give a brief interview with our own Eliza Fairweather as planned post Task. (Those interviews and Task Highlights can be found on pages 2 & 3)._
> 
> _I can’t help but wonder, as I’m sure that many of you reading now are also wondering._
> 
> _If this is the kind of performance we’re seeing for the opening act, just what does the future have in store for us._
> 
> _This has been Stephen Spellbender for the Daily Prophet, keeping you posted._

Setting the paper down very slowly on its face so he couldn’t see either article again Harry gave into impulse and pushed his teacup out of the way so he could -- with great dignity -- beat his head against the counter top.

Ignoring the very distinct _tunktunk_ that was his circlet crown making contact instead of his forehead.

To one side he could still hear Kreacher puttering about. Setting washed dishes to dry and setting about pulling out ingredients from the kitchens many, many cabinets for some treat or another to go with tea.

Harry couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or not that the elf was opting to completely ignore his micro embarrassment induced meltdown.

On the one hand he didn’t particularly want to well at the mess of emotions and thoughts the article had stirred up, but on the other hand he had gotten used to Sirius offering either his two cents or showering Harry with good natured teasing.

Not that he particularly wanted the teasing either.

Sighing to himself the teen pushed himself back upright and reached for his tea, wrapping his hands around the hot cup and settled for watching Kreacher work. 

He had steadily been getting better, a little more clarity each day after he had been given proper time to mourn. The teen thought it might also help having other house-elves around to lighten the load of chores and that the house was so changed.

Originally Harry had expected the old, worn down elf to struggle with the changed house the most. But it seemed instead that the very obvious change between old and new was actually helping with the separation from the expectations and conditioning of his old master and mistress.

He supposed the best way to judge his improvement would be to see how well -- or poorly -- Kreacher reacted to and interacted with Sirius himself. Since even though he was the new master, he was a strong unavoidable tie back to people Kreacher seemed to be trying to actively let go of.

Though maybe his behaviour was normal.

After all the only house-elf he had spent any time around after the loss or separation from a master was Dobby who…

Harry blinked.

Pushing himself to sit up straighter he tried to recall if he had spoken to Dobby since they had parted after the teen had helped free the excitable elf from Malfoy senior.

Coming up blank Harry frowned.

“Dobby!” He tried.

From beside him there was a pop and as Harry turned he found huge eyes and an even bigger smile fixed on him. “Harry Potter has called for Dobby?”

The teen paused for a moment to take in the sight of the elf, noting the stained pillowcase smock which was likely the exact same one Harry had seen him in back in ‘92. Though it was accompanied by one purple and black striped sock and one bright red sock. A pair of small brown child sized runners and a set of black lace fingerless gloves that stretched over his knobby elbows and looked like they used to belong to someone's grandmother.

“Hello Dobby, how are you?” He started, for want of a better way to start a conversation.

The free-elf beamed. “Very well, sir. Dobby has been travelling about and has seen many new places.”

“And found some very colourful socks.” Harry added with a smile, mood lifted by the other's enthusiasm.

“Yes indeed, Dobby has as many as seven socks now!”

“That’s quite a collection, you’ve been building.” The teen replied, amused and idly wondering if he had decided to collect socks since that was what had set him free.

Puffing up in pride Dobby nodded happily before he turned his attention to study the mismatched kitchen. “Dobby has heard that Harry Potter is now a King, magnificent and powerful. Is this Harry Potter’s castle?” He asked curiously, eyeing Kreached for a moment where the other elf worked before moving on.

“I have, but no. I don’t have a castle or a palace yet. This is 12 Grimmauld Place, it’s one of the properties of the most ancient and noble House of Black. The current Lord is my godfather and friend, he’s letting me stay here while I have to be in Britain for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

Abruptly Dobby bounced on the tall counter stool he had appeared on, eyes widening and a grin of pure glee stretching across his face. “Dobby knowns of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he read about it in the papers and saw the dragons in the big crystal viewing screen yesterday!”

“Oh, what do you think so far?” Harry asked, unable to help himself.

“Harry Potter is stupendous!” The free-elf replied, small work worn and scarred hands clapping excitedly. “He has grown so much.”

Grinning himself at the others enthusiasm Harry leaned forward to let his elbows rest against the counter. “Well I’m glad you think so. It’s been very busy the last year and a bit.”

The smaller figure nodded rapidly, large ears flapping wildly. “Yes, yes! Magic kingdom.” He cried, wide excited grin in place. “Dobby read all about it, elves and goblins and wizards all being friends!”

“That’s actually why I called you to visit.” Harry admitted, turning a little so he was facing his first elf friend more directly. “I was thinking you might like to visit there, or live there even.”

The excited bouncing stopped and the wide grin slowly slipped from his face as the elf stared across at the boy king.

Suddenly unsure what the diminished reaction meant, Harry pushed on to quickly explain himself. “You don’t have to, obviously, you’re a free-elf. You can go anywhere you want. I was just thinking that there’s jobs in the Skyfall Ministry. Or well, the Skyfall one is the only one that’s been built yet, since Skyfall is the capital but there’s jobs for elves and about elves.” He said quickly.

“There’s spots for ambassador kind of positions, and the elvish welfare department.” Harry added quickly, running through some of the jobs in his head while he talked. “There’s also a lot of other jobs around the city that you could do...work in a shop or in the gardens…?”

He trailed off, feeling more than a little uncertain thanks to the lengthening period of quiet. 

_Quiet?_

Turning his head to where he last saw Kreacher mixing up some form of biscuits, Harry noted that the house-elf had stopped in place and was focused on the gaping Dobby instead.

“A free-elf?” Kreacher muttered, kraggy features settling into a deep scowl of derision.

Ah, right. Harry sighed.

Since elves typically bonded themselves for life -- whether their own or their master -- seeing a free-elf usually meant one of a couple things.

Either the elf had outlived their master or mistress and there was no one else left to inherit the elf in questions services or they had been let go, fired as it were from their position as servant of a magical household.

The former was regrettable certainly, but was known to happen from time to time. The better option despite the loss of life, at least as far as elf culture was concerned.

Because typically, to be let go from a position amongst House staff, meant that an elf had either performed an illegal action -- either according to the House rules of those set about by the government of whichever country they resided in -- and their firing was the most obvious and cemented sign that the elf in question was not welcome in the House.

Or, it meant that the elf had failed in their tasks so thoroughly or repeatedly that they were deemed unsalvageable. That either through ineptitude or poor behaviour an elf was not fit to serve.

It was a very big thing, among elves, to betray or let down the masters that were relying on your services to keep their household running smoothly. To serve their House in quiet skill and dignity.

Taking a moment to brace himself a little, Harry turned to address Kreacher more directly. “I orchestrated Dobby’s severance from his previous master after I found them to be behaving dishonorably and had through their actions endangered the lives of magical children, bringing shame upon their House.” Harry told him sternly. “Their punishment for those crimes was the loss of their diligent elf servant.”

Kreacher looked away from Dobby in order to stare up at Harry, expression taking on a more thoughtful cast as he seemed to weigh the explanation.

Eventually the kraggy elf inclined his head and bowed low, his long nose just missing the polished floor. “It is the duty of Kings to punish Lords and the duty of elves to obey.”

And with that he straightened and went back to work, seemingly content to largely ignore Dobby’s presence.

“King Harry would let Dobby work in his new home?”

Speaking of Dobby.

Turning away from Kreacher to focus back on the free-elf Harry nodded. “I would. I think you’d give the other elves a unique perspective.” He said honestly, giving the smaller figure a small smile. “Who knows, there might end up being more free-elves that need someone to give them advice.”

Really, he probably should have expected to find himself suddenly gaining an armful of excited elf. As it was though Harry found himself nearly knocked off his stool.

It took a little while to calm the elf down, but eventually Harry steered the conversation to more specific things.

He explained the laws that had been written to protect all the people that lived and worked on Volstar. Explaining that no, he could not negotiate for _less_ wages because each job had a certain minimum amount that needed to be paid to everyone that worked, just like there was hard maximums that certain jobs could be paid to protect against corruption.

Explaining work uniforms had been a bit easier, since there was already the example of House livery that he could point to. Then he had just pointed out that rather than the House being embroidered onto the uniform the logo or crest of the company the person -- elf or otherwise -- worked for would be sewn in instead.

That had been met with disagreement from Dobby and surprisingly Kreacher as well, who Harry hadn’t thought was listening.

Not against wearing the symbol of the business, but both insistent that the elf uniform should still bear the crest of their sworn House. Even if their tasks were focused around the business instead of the House.

The teen had made a mental note to talk that over with the other house-elves that had been left in Skyfall, to gauge their opinions on the matter.

Though, since Hildegara had given him a _look_ and told him much the same when he had originally touched on wholesale replacing pillowcase and teatowel smocks for actual uniforms.

He went on to explain the different accommodations available to elves that lived in Skyfall, the little houses that numbered four to a garden plot for small elf families or otherwise singular elves that wanted less neighbours and more garden space. Or the tall spellglass sheathed flats that stretched up and up with little hanging gardens on each balcony to go with the garden that surrounded the building. Where hundreds of elves could live together in family communities, still tied in with nature.

Both Dobby and Kreacher had boggled a little at the notion of elves living anywhere separate from their masters, but Harry had quickly explained that the choice was more geared towards the elves who were tied to businesses rather than a House, free-elves, or elves that wanted to continue living with their families.

Eventually the more he talked and explained things, the happier both elves seemed to be with the order of things.

Even if it was only Dobby that was making the move.

So far.

Sirius still seemed a little on the fence about making the move permanent for the House of Black.

Not for lack of want or belief in what they were building, but because it would mean the loss of the family magic that had been steadily accumulated over generation upon generation of lives aligned with and nurtured by the Black blood and magic.

Actually properly moving would mean removing the magic roots that had been anchored to the land with seasonal rituals and bursts of magic large and small.

From what Harry knew about Sirius’ family history, the House of Black had lived in and been nurtured by England since one of their predecessors Rigelus the Black had settled there to escape a particularly nasty feud that had resulted in a truly unhealthy amount of poison being used. That settling had occurred one-thousand-two-hundred years ago.

Which meant that wixen of that same bloodline had been shedding excess magic into the same pool for longer than Hogwarts had existed. It was why they were titled a ‘Most Ancient’ house. Since to be called so, your line had to be traceable to a period of over one-thousand years of existence and of course still be in existence and capable of living on.

The Potters were classed as ‘Ancient’ themselves, though not Most Ancient since they had existed as they were now for more than the five-hundred years of uninterrupted existence. But still being a thorough chunk of years short of the awe inspiring ‘Most Ancient’.

The Peverells that the Potters had descended from would have joined the Blacks in their position as a much lauded Most Ancient House, but all their branch lines had split off into other, newer Houses and the main line itself had long since died out. Leaving it effectively, excepting for the small bit of blood and magic that had passed down to the Gaunt line and the Potter line.

But that did mean that, the Black line which had no close contenders for England's oldest magical line. At least in terms of its human origin.

No other line had the same deep pool of Family Magic that could be called on in strife that the Black line did. And since the line had effectively come down to just Sirius left, it meant that if he formalised the move and started the home warding and blessing rituals that came with founding a new home for a magical House that he would be doing so from scratch.

Something that would have had most, if not all, other wixen Houses fleeing the other way.

The enormous enviable pool that had been built and nurtured in England -- had been seeded before England as a country had even been founded -- would seep into the land to nourish it, a parting gift of sorts to honor the land for having nurtured the family. 

Which in of itself wasn’t a bad thing since sometimes a sizable gifting of magic -- and this would be a particularly grand one -- would sometimes garner blessings from the land and its spirits that would help protect and nurture you for the trip and after.

No, the problem was letting go of such a sizable pool of magic -- for all that it had been slipping away already when Harry had gotten to Grimmauld and had had to infuse and anchor it -- that could be drawn from going forward when whatever was going on finally came to a head. 

And both Remus and Sirius were positive that it would at some point.

But that was still to come. Years off maybe, based on the strange events that happened to Harry each year.

For now Kreacher and the magic pool would stay tied to this revived hodge-podge of a house in England.

Even if he rumbled out thoughts and ideas as to the nature of elves on Volstar while he puttered about the kitchen, serving up steaming biscuits straight from the oven with tea.

A flick of his glowing gaze toward the face down paper though, had Harry pondering if maybe things might resolve themselves much sooner.

~*~*~*~*~*~

####  Riddle Manor, England

In an old house with crumbling walls, forgotten by most save for those few in the town that were old enough to recall its long dead owners, a figure sat.

A figure both man and monster had curled its small weak form into the curling high back of the armchair he had been placed in. One of the few that remained largely unaffected by the march of time.

Cast about him atop dust thick floors were torn pages of newspaper, ripped to pieces in a pique of frustration.

There had been too many unknowns, too many unexpected twists lately that he had not anticipated. Much as it pained him to admit that, even to himself.

The boy was an anomaly almost beyond control.

The puppet minister, a broken toy that failed as much as he succeeded.

Both remained stubbornly in the way.

Both, he was adamant, would be dealt with sooner or later.

Sooner the bungling fool.

Later would come his treat.

His revenge.

A bloodshot, gleaming red eye cast down to glare balefully at the photograph of a boy, standing tall and proud while wearing a crown that by all rights -- at least according to him -- should have been resting upon his own brow.

Soon though, he would return to his former glory.

And when he did, the world would weep for its lost boy king.

Long may he _suffer_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the appropriate time to use the old "Dun dun duuuuun"?  
> I'm honestly unsure at this point.


	22. One, Two, Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Yule Ball rapidly approaching, Harry and the gang make their way to Diagon Alley for an afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, happy Monday, I hope you're all doing well.  
> I have a vague feeling the responses to this chapter will be interesting, but I hope you all enjoy it.

#### November 28th 1994 - Diagon Alley, England, Wizarding Great Britain

In hindsight -- because it was always in hindsight -- Harry supposed he should have realised that taking a trip to Diagon Alley with a small squad of goblins visibly armed to the teeth would garner a fair bit of attention.

And make his guests for the outing a little uncomfortable.

Though admittedly, watching Ron squirm a little more out of the corner of his eye each time someone new pointed at them and turned to someone near them to immediately start gossiping was rapidly becoming one of Harry’s new favourite things.

As it was he could barely keep the grin off his face as his best mate fluctuated between going as red as his hair or a sickly white from the attention and his own nerves respectively.

Hermione, who was walking beside Ron was doing a decent job of pretending she hadn’t even noticed all the attention, all the while whispering at Ron.

No doubt trying to either distract him or otherwise talk him through his nerves.

Bill was strolling along merrily whistling a quiet but jaunty tune -- earning him a scowl from his younger brother -- already having gone on several trips out and about with Harry and having grown accustomed to the attention.

Professor McGonagall who had been volunteered to act as chaperone for Ron and Hermione while they were dragged along for dress robes for the Yule Ball, looked rather a lot like she was recalling each and every person that had once been her student.

Recalling them and every detention, poor mark and disappointed look she had ever given them.

Given how long she had been teaching at Hogwarts, Harry was pretty sure that equated to most of the people that had stopped to point and gossip in the street.

Considering how utterly unimpressed she looked as she marched on with the rest of the group, the young king wondered if a person could experience too much schadenfreude.

Although, to balance out his amusement at everyone else’s expense he had the distinct dubious privilege of overhearing just how many people were contemplating whether or not he had anything to do with the Minister’s poisoning.

After all, they said, he was very powerful and who knew what people that powerful thought about. 

_Did they even consider themselves a normal person anymore?_

_There was political tension there too, wasn’t there?_

_Missed meetings and all sorts of things were published in the paper. What if he snapped?_

_What if he’d gone rogue?_

It wasn’t all bad though. For every suspicious or otherwise negative comment there seemed to be a compliment .

Some of them were rather embarrassing and wildly inappropriate. Especially since he hadn’t miraculously aged three years when he wasn’t paying attention.

Really, it had been bad enough hearing it from people his own age -- never mind that he was relatively sure none of those people had been saying those things before he became a king and they had had a chance to really see him in action, magically speaking -- but it felt like something else entirely to hear it from the people he was now.

Witches and the odd wizard that were closer to middle years than teenage.

It was not an entirely comfortable feeling, if he was being entirely honest with himself.

So he did the only logical thing and put it as far from his mind to look over later when he wasn’t out in public being stared at.

Despite the uncomfortable attention the group made it to Twilfitt and Tatting’s without incident, the owners having agreed ahead of time to close up shop to regular clientele in order to facilitate the security demands of having royalty in store.

Two men of middle years, both exceptionally well groomed and attired swept forward to receive them as the door gently chimed their arrival, sweeping into matching elegant bows in unison.

“Greeting and welcome to Twilfitt and Tatting’s. I am Augustus Twilfitt head of production and this is my partner Nathaniel Tatting who leads our modest design team.” The man dressed in shades of black and blue said as he straightened.

The gentleman introduced as Mr. Tatting straightened and gestured behind them to a group of five humans and a house-elf that were all neatly lined up like they were ready for inspection.

“These are our workers, they will be assisting us in seeing to your parties needs for the duration of your visit. Our house-elf Pella has prepared tea and snacks and will serve you directly if you have no objection.” Mr. Tatting said, speaking to the group at large, though his brown eyes remained fixed on Harry himself.

Casting his glowing eyes over the humans, Harry absently noted that they were each almost as well done up as the two owners in dark colours. His eyes settled on the house-elf and he smiled, taking in the neatly pressed pinafore with the tailors logo stitched into one side of the chest and the matching child sized black shoes that had been polished until they shone.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all, I look forward to your diligent service.” He said, offering a small smile to each of them before turning away to gesture to the small tea table and comfy looking chair that had been set up in one corner out of the way. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, Professor, we’re likely going to be a while.”

“Hm, I believe that would be best.” She agreed primly, and cast a last look about before she moved to occupy one of the well stuffed couches.

She was followed swiftly by Pella who in short order had snapped up a rather expensive looking tea service that was laden with an assortment of small cakes and biscuits, a fine china teapot with delicate flowers and vines painted on it, and enough cups for each of them.

Catching sight of the frown on Hermione’s face as he turned back to their hosts, Harry withheld a sigh and resigned himself to finding time to sit his friend down for the chat he had been putting off for several weeks now.

For now though he turned his attention back to the two men and their assistants and forcefully dragged the teenage witch back to what they were actually there for with a sharp clap of his hands. “Let’s leap to it, shall we?” He proposed. “My guests will need two outfits, both formal. One for the Yule Ball being held in a few weeks at Hogwarts and the other a black robe affair that can be worn to government functions.”

Both owners nodded. 

Mr. Twilfitt turned just slightly to indicate with an open hand to the array of podiums that had been spread about the store with plenty of space between. “If everyone will take up position upon the stands, we can get started on taking basic measurements.”

“Then we can go into further detail as to the fabrics and styles.” Mr. Tatting added.

It really was to their credit, Harry thought, that neither man so much as raised an eyebrow at the heavily armed goblins that had spread out to position themselves around the store. Nor the ones that were still stationed outside for that matter, making sure no one tried to sneak into the store or otherwise attack it while Harry was inside.

Both men seemed to be intent on largely ignoring them and instead focused all their attention on Harry himself.

Moving to take his place on the center-most platform, Harry idly wondered how often their clients brought their own guards shopping with them. Despite the shop's more exclusive nature, he somehow doubted many of the elitists that apparently favoured the store had remotely the same security concerns that Harry currently did.

Although, given how many of them had probably been either Death Eaters or sympathisers, maybe they did.

With both Weasley’s and the one Granger similarly taking up their own spots the assistants sprang into action sweeping forward to start taking measurements, notably giving Harry a fairly wide berth. Instead Messrs. Twilfitt and Tatting themselves moved to work on the boy king themselves.

“Now, did his Majesty have any pre-existing preferences in regards to fabrics, no allergies to particular threads?” Mr. Tatting asked while his partner went through the motions of taking down the required measurements.

Harry shook his head as he moved his arms out from his sides as directed. “No preferences or allergies.”

“Wonderful. If I recall correctly you were only commissioning your outfit for the ball, did you already have a look in mind?” The tailor asked, looking Harry over keenly, noting both the outfit he was wearing currently and his general colouring.

“I rather like the idea of wearing white and gold. If the decorations are anything like they’ve been previously I think they’ll play up the winter theme. And speaking from experience, teenagers tend to be a rather colourful lot, so I’d probably end up being the only person wearing much in the way of white.” The teen explained, going over what may or may not be the end result of a brainstorming session with Sirius and his very patient but much more socially acceptable Healer.

A conversation that may or not have only happened the previous night over dinner when Harry realised he maybe just might possibly need to have _something_ to tell the tailors to avoid looking like he -- very rightly -- have absolutely no idea what he was on about.

Not a huge problem for Harry Potter. Bit of an issue for King Harry.

It was one of the weirder cases of double standards he’d encountered yet.

“Hmm, well with your hair and eyes and your nicely tanned skin you’ll have no trouble standing out, even dressed in white in largely white surrounds.” Mr. Tatting replied, one hand coming up to idly stroke his own pale stubble free cheek.

From his place off to one side Mr. Twilfitt cocked his head without seeming to remove most of his own task. “Will you be wearing this crown?”

“Ah, not this one, no. I’ll be wearing the formal one for the occasion.” Harry replied readily.

“I don’t suppose his Majesty has brought it along with him?” Mr. Tatting asked, one black brow raised.

Reaching into his pocket the teen pulled out a shrunken box, ornate in design and with no visible latches or hinges. With nary a twitch he returned it to its proper size, absently noting that four of his goblin guard had moved closer to surround them.

Placing a finger along the side of the box where he knew the heavily enchanted magical lock was located, Harry pressed the smallest amount of his magic he could into the lock just the way he had been taught. 

A moment later he was rewarded with a tiny flash of light as the bindings on the enchanted box released allowing the top half to gently float up a full two feet above the base to allow unimpeded view of the crown contained within.

Both men upon seeing it made a soft almost uniform sound of appreciation.

It was a nice crown, as far as they went. Though admittedly Harry’s own knowledge base was limited at best. The goblins were all proud of it, which made sense since it had been personally crafted from raw elements by the goblin king, Dòrn Airgid the Ninth. And among goblins only the greatest smith can rise to the throne.

Intricately wrought gold formed the body of the crown, winding around a veritable galaxy of ‘lesser’ diamonds that gleamed and sparkled in the light. The gold wove around and up, towering above the base in seven even weaving golden tails that had been dotted with pristine diamonds of varying sizes so as to emulate stardust. But the literal crowning jewels were the seven thumbsize white diamonds that topped each of the seven points, gleaming in a way that only gems mined, fashioned and polished with magic could.

It probably should have been rather gaudy. Harry thought that if a human had crafted it, then it probably would have been, exceptionally so.

But the goblins greatest talents were tied to the earth, the guiding pulse of its call guiding them through dirt and stone and silt to exactly where they needed to be and precisely when. 

Earth song guided their miners and their smiths and the stronger the connection the greater the guiding hand that would encourage or urge patience. As far as Harry had heard from his studies on goblin culture, the worship of the earth and its spirit was the closest the goblins came to religion.

It was also probably one of the biggest reasons goblins got on decently with the elves despite their subservience, but clashed so badly with most humans.

But the point of it all, was that goblin smiths were able to craft works of earth gifted metals and gems into works of art that defied human ability. It was why goblin crafted items were so sought after, and so rare, very few of them ever being sold or gifted to outsiders.

And the formal crown, which had been given a name that roughly translated to The Seven Stars of the Wizard King in English, was not an exception but rather the proof of that prodigious gift.

There was not a person that could see it on him, knowing anything about the goblin people and their beliefs and not understanding on a visceral level just what Harry and his efforts on their behalf meant to them.

For all that it would sit upon his head and declare him King, it was without a doubt a goblin statement.

_If you dare, we will crush you._

Harry might have cried a little bit, curled up like a child in Sirius’ lap the night Goldhammer and the shamans had presented it to him.

Which was alright. 

Sirius would always keep his secrets.

“Oh...oh my.” One of the men whispered before quietly clearing his throat. “Yes, I...we can definitely craft your attire for the evening to pay homage to such a gift.”

Nodding a little in acceptance of the quiet promise Harry carefully guided the lid to close once more and waited patiently for it to reseal before carefully shrinking it and slipping it back into his pocket.

Once it was out of sight both men seemed to shake themselves and straighten.

“Well, if you’d care to make yourself comfortable, we’ll get to work on mocking up some design sketches and picking out some sample fabrics for you to look over.” Mr. Twilfitt suggested politely before subtly grabbing hold of Mr. Tatting and herding him to the back of the store where an almost hidden door no doubt led to the gritty business end of the store.

From a brief moment as he watched them leave, Harry had the idea that they just might be _partners_ as well as business partners.

Shaking it off as none of his business he turned his attention instead to give his friends a cursory look over and noted that both Bill and Hermione seemed to be doing well enough but that Ron was looking well and truly out of his depth.

Deciding to take pity on him, Harry carefully stepped down from his own little platform and crossed the room to stop nearby but out of the way. “How are things going?” He asked both Ron and his assigned attendant.

Said attendant seemed to have finished with all of the youngest Weasley sons’ measurements and from the looks of his notebook, was trying to draft up a list of fabrics and styles.

Though he didn’t seem to have gotten very far.

“Harry help, I think he’s speaking in tongues. What the hell’s paisley?” The redhead hissed at him.

Biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh, Harry offered the attendant a polite smile. “Paisley is the name for a kind of pattern that gets used in formal fashions a fair bit. Usually best in small amounts, I think, vest or tie.”

“What?” Ron asked, frowning at him as if Harry had suddenly transformed into a totally new person. “How do you know that?”

“Part of my education. No one likes a king that lives in jeans and tshirts apparently.” Harry replied with a shake of his head and a shrug before he turned to the attendant who seemed like he was doing some cheek biting of his own. “What have you got so far?”

The young man -- Harry reckoned he was closer to Bill’s age than Sirius’ -- cleared his throat and straightened as he was addressed, shifting a little to hold out his notepad for Harry to see. “Aside from Mr. Weasley’s measurements...not much. He’s veto’d lace and frills and anything ‘too shiny’ and green. But that’s about as far as we’ve gotten.”

Given the fact that Ron seemed about a mistimed snicker away from launching into a brawl, Harry gave his best mate a small smile he hoped looked friendly and not at all like he was laughing on the inside. “Can I make some suggestions?”

Throwing his hands up in the air as if to say ‘I give up’, Ron trudged down off his platform with a half. “May as well, I’ve not got a bloody clue.”

“It’s alright Ron, you haven’t learned about this stuff like I had to.” Harry told him, mirth effectively squished by how defeated he looked. “Why don’t you get comfy, have some tea and cakes. You’ve already done the important bit.”

Casting a glance towards the very inviting looking chairs and small mound of artfully arranged cakes and biscuits, the redhead huffed a sigh and deflated a little more. “Don’t tell ‘Mione.”

“Secrets safe, Ron. You and McGonagall can talk quidditch, like about what my lot would need to get a league together.” He suggested, giving his mate a pat on the shoulder.

Once the redhead was safely on his way turned his attention back to the attendant. “So, for him it’d probably be better to stay closer to something more classic. Black short tail jacket and matching slacks. Black ascot too, I think, rather than a bowtie. Plain white shirt, though that paisley idea’s not bad. On a vest, double breasted. Black base, burgundy embroidering with matching burgundy pocket square. A set of black robes to complete the look.”

The older man blinked then jumped to quickly write down Harry’s ‘suggestion’. “He won’t mind that you’re picking out his outfit for him?”

“Not really, we’ve been friends since the train to Hogwarts. He knows I wouldn’t pick out a mess to have a laugh. The red ties in with his house colours, which he’s proud of, and the mostly neutral design and colours won’t clash with his hair or build.” The teen reasoned, casting a look to where Ron was apparently back in full swing, if the arm gestures he was making while he talked to the transfiguration professor.

The man beside him shrugged slightly before reading back over his notes. “Were you thinking something similar for the standard formal attire you also requested?”

“More simple, classic white shirt, black suit and tie, white pocket square. That way it’ll be good for most formal occasions.”

The man nodded and made another note before giving Harry a quick bow. “I’ll take this into the back then and pick out some fabrics.”

Giving the attendant a brief nod, Harry watched him quickly head off in the same direction his employers had a few minutes prior before turning to cast a look toward Hermione and Bill. Assured that they still seemed to be doing fine on their own, the teen checked in quietly with Ruknukle before moving to take a seat next to Ron.

“That was quick.” The ginger commented, raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

Harry shrugged. “I already have an idea about what you don’t want to wear. Put that together with the stuff I learned about ‘respectable fashion for the young gentleman’ it wasn’t too hard.”

“Respectable fashion for the young gentleman?” Ron parroted, going a little bug eyed.

“One of the chapters from one of my etiquette books. The thing was written in the 1800’s but it honestly still holds up pretty well, especially here where everyone’s a bit old fashioned.” He explained.

“A Potter studying etiquette, wonders never cease.” Professor McGonagall said over the rim of her teacup, the corners of her lips twitching ever so slightly upward.

“Apparently not. Remus was just as surprised.” Harry replied with a small grin, recalling the rather amusing and entirely overly dramatic unveiling of the depths of Harry’s studies. “Sirius spent the evening when he was quizzing me looking like he’d swallowed an entire lemon tree.”

The older woman huffed. “I’m sure you’ll forgive my complete lack of surprise.”

“Waste of time, I reckon, the lot of it.” Ron muttered in aggravation around one of the teacakes that had disappeared into his mouth when Harry had taken a seat.

Professor McGonagall grimaced at the image he made and focused her steely eyes instead on her tea. “You, Mr. Weasley, could certainly benefit from a few lessons in common etiquette and deportment.”

He frowned at her. “What?”

“Bad manners to talk with food in your mouth, mate. Makes people feel ill.” Harry explained gently, though not for the first time so it was anyone's guess how long it would be before he forgot again. “Actually Professor, there is something I wanted to ask you, if you don’t mind?”

She raised a gray brow at him curiously. “Oh?”

Steeling himself for whatever the outcome Harry inclined his head and pressed forward. “I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?”

Beside him Ron promptly started choking.

“Mr. Pot-”

“It’s not a prank or anything sordid, Professor, I swear.” He insisted quickly, cutting her off before she could start lecturing him in the middle of Twilfitt and Tatting’s. “I’ve given the ball a lot of thought, particularly in combination to my new status. I’d appreciate it if you please at least hear me out.”

Lips firmly pressed together, her eyes flicked from Harry to the ginger boy beside him who was now having his back rubbed after the wayward cake had been negligently spelled from his throat. 

Finally after a long moment she nodded slowly. “Very well, though I urge you to tread carefully.”

Nodding again, Harry considered how to best phrase the conclusion he had come to during his deliberation.

Deciding to err on the side of caution so he didn’t find himself discretely jinxed into a duck himself, the boy king decided to take the long route rather than a more succinct explanation.

“You’ll recall that even before I became a king I had a certain fame that led to a lot of gossip and scrutiny among my peers particularly, but from the world at large as well.” He started, opting to give her his full attention, eye to eye. “Since the shift in my status that’s increased exponentially. You got to hear a bit of it on the way here and have probably been hearing even more in passing around Hogwarts.”

Taking a breath he let it out in a sigh, both hands coming to rest in his lap where he folded them so he wouldn’t pick at his nails in a show of discomfort.

“The media in particular have been having a grand time poking at absolutely everything I do and given the type of gossip that seems to find its way into the Prophet or the few tabloids in the magical community, any girl that is seen with me will be picked to pieces. Both by gossiping adults that should know better and her peers. Taking a male friend wouldn’t end up much better.”

He paused again, giving that titbit time to sink in.

“You in contrast to someone my own age are a widely respected academic and a powerful witch to boot. You know very well what you’re about and very few people would try to turn one mandatory ball attendance into some sordid scandal for gossip.” He added. “Transfiguration has always been one of my better subjects and you were my head of house for three years. It wouldn’t be a stretch for most people to assume that I choose to escort you in repayment for your guidance over the past few years.”

“Particularly in light of certain marvels.” She agreed after a moment, looking less tense and disapproving as he spoke.

Much to Harry’s great relief.

“Yeah, and that dragon-duck thing you did too.” Ron added helpfully then frowned. “It’s not all bad though, right?”

“Not all bad. Most people are more willing to at least listen to what I have to say now instead of automatically assuming I don’t know what I’m talking about because I’m only fourteen.” He agreed, then smiled happily. “And it's good being able to build and learn, so there’s that too.”

McGonagall hummed quietly at that, holding her teacup out for the quiet house-elf to refill with a light snap and offered a quiet thank you in exchange. “Yes, well, every cloud has its silver lining. I’m sure you’ll find one or two more if you endeavour to look.”

“Oh there are a lot of nice things. I never have to worry about being hungry or sick, and I’m practically guaranteed to have a roof over my head no matter where I go. And that I’ve got even more people looking out for me.” He agreed with a smile. “I don’t really even need to worry about another nation deciding they want to add Volstar to their own territory, being such close allies with the goblins.”

He paused a moment to think it over before making a face. “Really, the only things I actually need to worry about on a personal level is public opinion via the media, assassination attempts and whether or not someone close to me is going to become a target themselves.”

“Blimey, that’s a bit messed up mate.” Ron muttered, pulling a face at that last bit.

“That’s the risk when you’re a public figure.” Harry replied with a shrug.

The down to earth professor hummed again, regarding Harry over the rim of her cup. “You truly believe that something untoward may happen if you were to escort a witch or wizard your own age?”

The boy king paused a moment to consider how best to answer the question without earning himself a slap upside the head. “Well, there is the fact that I, a fourteen year old boy have somehow managed to accrue sufficient enemies to be forcefully entered against my will into a tried and true historical event that hasn’t occurred in a couple hundred years which can with some accuracy be affectionately dubbed a death tournament.”

She stared at him for a long moment then blinked a long, slow blink reminiscent of her animagus form before sighing. “I’ll keep my wand close then, shall I?”

“Probably for the best.” Ron piped up with a shrug as he reached for another tiny cake.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Much later that evening, after escorting a group of new settlers through the barrier around Volstar and seeing that they were introduced around. After they had been shown to the Seeker’s Rest where they would stay while they sorted through the available housing options, Harry sat on one of the comfortable couches in front of the fireplace in his office.

While Sirius shook his way out of his seat and onto the floor in a thud with his laughter.

In hindsight -- because it was always in hindsight -- Harry supposed he should have realised that telling Sirius of all people that he was taking their old transfiguration professor to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts would have resulted with a great deal of laughter at his expense.

Especially since the aforementioned professor wasn’t in earshot to scold him.

Remus wasn’t much help, his eyes had been just as twinkly as Dumbledore and hadn’t stopped being so for the last fifteen minutes it had taken for Sirius to slide boneless out of his seat.

“It’s not that funny.” Harry huffed, staring down at the shaking mess of a man.

Who of course only seemed to laugh harder.

The teen wasn’t even sure why it seemed so funny to the two Marauders, though he was half sure it probably had something to do with an old joke or prank.

So resigning himself to waiting, he settled back in his spot, rolled his eyes and waited.

Which turned out to take quite a bit longer than he thought it would, since every time the animagus would catch sight of Harry or Remus he would break into his deep barking laughter anew.

On one hand it was good to hear and see him laughing.

On the other Harry would much rather it not be at his expense. Especially when he himself wasn’t in on the joke.

“Old Minnie loves to dance.” Sirius said once he had finally calmed down. “You don’t even know how yet.”

“Funnily enough, I was aware of that fact, thank you.” Harry snarked back.

“Well, you’ve a couple of weeks to learn.” Remus pointed out, pushing himself to his feet.

He made his way to the back corner of the room behind Harry’s desk to where a magic powered record player sat, waiting to be used the next time they were stuck behind desks for hours doing paperwork.

He rifled through the records that had been neatly stacked on a shelf behind it before pulling out one and setting it.

After a moments fussing the mellow sounds of a stately waltz began to weave through the room.

Still grinning mischievously, Sirius held a hand out to the young king and gave a small bow. “May I have this dance?”

Eyeing the animagus for a moment Harry eventually sighed and placed a hand in the older man’s and allowed himself to be pulled up out of his chair. “Alright, but it’s your feet.”

“Eh, I think I’ll manage.” The older man said as he led them both to an expanse of open floor. “Now, you need to learn how to lead, so pop your hand on my waist and we’ll go for a spin.”

Huffing a little at the sudden feeling of embarrassment that popped up out of nowhere, Harry did as he was told, placing his free hand on the older man's waist just beneath his ribs and arched an eyebrow up at him.

“Right, back straight, posture relaxed.” Sirius urged, his own free hand moving to settle on the teens shoulder. “When you’re ready, step and I’ll follow your lead.”

“We’ll start with a basic three count.” Remus said from his place near the player. “I’ll keep the count so all you have to do is step in time.”

Licking his lips against his sudden nerves, Harry swallowed then nodded. “Sure, nothing to it.”

“Nothing to it.” Sirius agreed, bowing his head to get the teen to meet his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Harry kept his focus on the others calm gray eyes and took his first step.

It was echoed almost simultaneously by Sirius and joined by Remus’s calm count.

“One, two, three...one, two, three...one, two, three…”

Around and around in a wobbly sort of circle they went, managing to keep time with Moony’s pacing. At least until Harry got nervous again and tried to look down at his feet.

Which of course meant he ended up trodding on Sirius’ foot before the man could get it out of the way.

Quick apology brushed aside with a patient smile, the animagus gave the teens shoulder and hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t think about it. You’re the type of person that does their best work when they’re barely thinking about it.” He said softly. “So, don’t think.”

“Don’t think…” Harry repeated quietly as they started again. “I don’t think I know how to do that anymore.”

“Then you should think about something completely different. Why don’t you explain your crystal viewing thing to me, you barely had time the last time you stopped for a visit?” Sirius prodded, moving easily in answer to the teens movements.

Frowning a little, Harry nevertheless nodded and got to explaining the premise behind it all.

Then the rough draft of the rune selection.

Then the enchanting.

And then he didn’t notice that Remus had stopped counting, too involved with explaining his newest invention.

Too busy spinning around the room with Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...thoughts?
> 
> I know some of you were pretty keen to know how our favourite glow-boy was going to decide on a couple things, like his Ball partner.
> 
> Here's hoping I don't have to dodge anything too heavy, my reflexes aren't exactly seeker nimble.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'll see you all in the comments, or on Discord. Feel free to join me and a steadily growing group of likewise fun loving geeks there. :)


	23. The Heights of Dance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes Minnie for a spin around the Great Hall and pops back to Skyfall for some much needed R&R.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, can you believe it's already Monday again?  
> My week has been nonstop and exhausting.  
> Still managed to find some time to write though, so we're in the clear.  
> Anyway, I shan't keep you. It's a bit of a condensed chapter (or at least it feels that way to me) but we do get to see a lot of important little things happen in it.  
> So I hope you all enjoy it. :)

#### 25th December 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

Somehow, Harry didn’t think he was going to be overly fond of balls and other formal events that involved a lot of pageantry.

Using a hand to smooth out his pristine white jacket with its gold accents, he cast a look around at the other champions and their dates.

The rest of the school and staff had already made their way into the great hall to chat and mingle before the Ball’s official commencement. It left the rest of them a brief few moments to settle themselves and to rehash the order of entry and what few things could be expected of them during the night.

Namely the opening dance and a small interview with the media.

Though from what Harry understood of it, the ‘interview’ was more of a photo opportunity with a few questions tagged on, all of which revolved around the Yule Ball itself rather than the tournament at large.

Beside him Professor McGonagall -- dressed sharply in dark green formal robes over a matching gown -- had been reiterating their order while the other champions guided their dates into place.

Cedric first, with his date Cho Chang, the homeground hero as it were.

As the champion of the hosting school he would lead the way and be the first to take up position on the dance floor.

Next along would be Fleur and Bill Weasley, who leaned into each other talking quietly around shy pleased smiles.

There had been a bit of a debate originally, after Fleur had asked Bill -- an older non-student -- to be her partner for the ball. It had been finally settled with pointing out that Harry did not technically belong either.

After all, Bill would be in attendance regardless -- along with Healer Graves and a host of goblins -- and it meant very little realistically speaking whether a champion escorted a student or not. Given how Harry himself was escorting a professor to the Ball.

And everyone was still too uncomfortable with the whole mess revolving around Harry’s inclusion into the tournament’s champion roster to so much as look at him funny, let alone tell him he couldn’t do something he wanted to.

Particularly if that thing happened to at least seem reasonable.

So Fleur got to take Bill officially, and the two of them couldn’t seem to step ogling each other and whispering together.

Which was kind of nice, especially since they somehow had so far, managed to avoid being nauseating.

Probably the lack of public displays of affection.

Given that it was a sort-of-but-not-actually first date, Bill appeared to be playing the role of Perfect Gentleman for the evening.

Which was pretty par for the course, really.

Turning away from Bill and Fleur to the next in line, Harry eyed the rather imposing figure Viktor made in his bold red formal uniform. 

Particularly in comparison to the petite figure of his Yule Ball date, a tiny girl that Harry recalled seeing seated at the upper end of the Ravenclaw table with the seventh years. 

It seemed a little amusing to Harry how the top of her head only managed to draw even with the tops of Viktor’s strong shoulders.

Though really when push came to shove he knew it was he himself and McGonagal that were the stand out couple, if only because they were so utterly dissimilar.

The boy king offered her his arm when she had finished relaying her last minute reminders to the group at large and offered her a small slightly self-deprecating smile. “Ready?”

“As we’ll even be, I suppose.” She replied, slotting her arm around his offered one to rest her hand on his forearm. “Remember, the opening waltz will last a total of three minutes before the floor will be open for all guests to dance as the whim strikes.”

“I remember.” He promised and shifted to face forward even as he regarded her out of the corner of one eye.

He had the brief thought that it almost seemed like the professor was more nervous about the Ball than he was.

Although, he imagined there was little time during the year for a teacher and administrator who juggled so many responsibilities to attend things like balls and social parties. There was also the pressure of the whole thing running smoothly since any major cockups would reflect poorly on the school.

But you could say what you want about Professor Minerva McGonagal -- at great danger to your own pride -- but she was damn proud of her school.

Even if she did spend so much time rolling her eyes at her students and fellow staff that it still surprised Harry that her face hadn’t stuck like that at some point.

Then again, he imagined she would just raise an eyebrow at her reflection and it would regret it’s foolishness and get back to behaving like it should.

Not that he would ever share that particular thought.

He was a King now, not a god.

Though knowing his luck he’d still end up with detention somehow.

In front of their small line the large doors of the Great Hall swung back open to allow them entrance and a path formed through the students in front of it, leading all the way to the large space set aside for dancers.

In front of them Cedric and Cho started their proud entrance. Then after a moment's pause Fleur and Bill made their way into the hall. Then Viktor and his date.

Finally it was Harry’s turn and he straightened out his back, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his chin the way he had been taught to before escorting the professor into the hall.

And not three feet into the Hall and he halfway wanted to turn around and go back the other way.

It felt a little surreal, the amount of people that were dipping into small bows or curtseys as he moved past. Left and right, students both younger and older than him were offering up their own small signs of respect, and if he hadn’t been experiencing it here and there since he had become a king, he reckoned he would have probably been pretty unnerved by it all.

Beside him the professor didn’t seem bothered by it, or barely seemed to notice really.

In short order each pair of champion partners made their way onto the dance floor and took up their preassigned place in a rough box shape. There was a bare moment of hesitation before Dumbledore addressed the gathered celebrants and welcomed them to the ball.

He half listened to the speech, at least just enough to pick out his cue to take the first step then the next until they’re dancing. 

Weaving around in gently swirling circles while keeping in mind where he and the professor are and where the other champions are so he doesn’t accidentally lead their spiral into them.

He’s almost absolutely positive that McGonagall is going to be grading his performance like his last transfiguration assignment.

At one point however his attention splits, having spotted Malfoy on the edge of the crowd looking like he was chewing on an earwax flavoured Bertie Botts bean and had toffee stuck to the top of his mouth. 

Somewhere between frustrated and disgusted.

He hadn’t given much thought to the white haired prat in months now, too busy focused on building, learning and political talks with other world leaders. It was almost jarring in a sense, to be confronted by the thought of a person that he had previously given so much consideration to.

His attention is jerked back by the sudden tensing of Professor McGonagall and the very slight but sudden intake of breath.

It took his mind less than a second to process that they’re on a collision course with Cedric and Harry makes an abrupt counter spin back in the opposite direction, magic unconsciously surging.

It takes an embarrassing long moment for him to realise his feet aren’t actually on the floor, since it still feels like they’re making contact with a solid surface.

But it wasn’t until he had a moment to relax again that he noticed that the faces that had been staring at him were now a couple of feet below him.

He and Minnie are dancing in the air and he’s honestly not entirely sure how that happened.

And from the look on her face, neither did his old head of house.

“ _I don’t particularly recall this dance calling for both of us to leave the ground._ ” She whispered sharply.

“ _Would you believe it’s a modern variation?_ ” He whispered right back, offering her his best innocent look.

Which according to Sirius was actually pretty good.

At least compared to his father.

“ _Back on the ground, Mr. Potter._ ”

“ _Just as soon as I figure out how we’re up here to begin with._ ” He assured her before he turned his focus inward to his magic.

His magic which was rather busy frothing about like a mad cat in a sack of wet werewolves.

It took him a moment to realise that it had surged in response to his split second of shock, an instinctive need to move away from the incoming danger, small though it would have been.

Which tells him the ‘Why?’.

The ‘How?’ he knew will be a fair bit more difficult to puzzle through. Not least because of the lack of conscious thought guiding his magic into action.

His mind touched on the anti-gravity charm he had learned recently, danced over the laws of physics that govern movement and pondered the levitation charm he had first learned when he was eleven. He also contemplated the sensation of a solid floor he knew was not actually there, having snuck a peek down to his feet to be sure.

Harry took the time to quietly whisper his thoughts to McGonagall, letting her be his sounding board like Sirius so often is when he’s getting creative with his magic.

He barely registered her growing look of surprise with the rapid pace of his thoughts.

But finally, when he thought he had an intentional version of the not quite levitation they were currently engaged in, Harry raised an eyebrow in lieu of asking if the professor was prepared for whatever came next then worked to guide his magic intentionally into lowering them back onto the dancefloor.

Their feet touch down and they manage to avoid knocking into any of the other dancers that had made their way into the space while they had been dancing about in the air.

There was a brief shared look before they came to the unspoken agreement that it might be time to end their dance and find a quiet spot to take a break.

The crowd parted for them without a word, offering a mixture of wide-eyed looks and respectful bows and curtseys that seemed a touch lower than they had been just a handful of minutes ago. It made it quite easy to slip through to where Dumbledore was standing to one side of the hall, looking for all the world like he had been waiting for them.

“What a spectacular opening dance.” He commented merrily as they came to a spot beside him.

“Oh yes, it was rather magical.” McGonagall responded, glancing at Harry with one eyebrow raised.

Sighing softly at the look Harry opted to instead move past it and direct his attention to the aged Headmaster. “Actually, before we get into that, I was wondering if you could tell me something?”

Interest settled across the man’s wizened features as he regarded Harry curiously. “I can but try.” He replied calmly. “What did you wish to know?”

“You’ve known Alastor Moody for a while, right?” Harry asked, cocking his head to one side.

“A number of years, yes, I do like to think of him as a dear friend.” Albus replied readily.

The boy king nodded slowly, adding that little titbit to the knowledge he already had. “Do you know why he would employ a full body disguise and _not_ to hide his scars?”

If Harry had thought he had their attention before, it was nothing compared to the weight of focus that was settled on him now.

“Disguise?” McGonagall repeated, voice terse.

He nodded, gesturing vaguely to the very impressive crown he was wearing. “My formal crown has several protections or aides enchanted into it that are meant to at least alert me to the potential of danger.” He told them quietly, lowering his voice to make sure no one outside of their triad would overhear them. “One of them is the detection of magical disguises and physical alterations, which ranges from basic glamours to polyjuice.”

They were both quiet for a moment, contemplating that before they exchanged a look.

Dumbledore turned sombre blue eyes back to the teen. “If I may ask, how does…?”

“It directs my magic in a constant pulse out from me that sweeps over a certain area around me that looks for certain magical signatures. The second layer to the enchantment augments my perception to make me aware of their presence. Or at least help me see those signatures when present. It was meant to help avoid assissination attempts.” He explained.

Harry paused for a moment to let them think that over, and, sure enough he saw understanding settle shortly after.

“Our unplanned dance in the air ended up giving me a birds-eye view of the hall. So I know a few of the students are using glamours on their faces, probably to hide blemishes. Mr. Moody has something affecting his whole body and given my experiences over my time as a Hogwarts student…” He trailed off, letting them follow the thought along to its logical conclusion.

Though he hadn’t been in mortal danger each of his three years at Hogwarts, there had been something off about each year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. In his first year, Quirinus Quirrell had been possessed rather horrifically by a shockingly still alive but disembodied Voldemort. He had obviously hidden that fact and set about his nefarious purpose in secret until it had all come out in the end as the school year had been drawing to a close.

In his second year the greatly touted Gilderoy Lockhart had taken up the position to very mixed reception. Despite not meaning any actual harm while he was acting in his role of professor for the year he still had managed to land titsup more often than was reasonable. But like Quirrell his secrets had come out toward the end of the school year and it had proved him more than simply unsavory.

And in third, as much as he hated to dwell on it, because it was arguably the best of his years despite the dementors and the confusion and all the secrets that everyone else seemed to know about him. Harry had to acknowledge that Remus had been keeping secrets of his own that had come out to nearly disastrous consequences.

But that was the common vein that linked all three men.

They had been carrying around very dangerous secrets, the kind that could drag a person in and chew them to bits. Literally in one instance.

With that in mind it begged the question, just what dangerous secret was Alastor Moody hiding?

From what Ron had been telling him, Harry knew that the man’s career as an auror had been intense and storied at best. Hence his many scars and lost body parts.

He knew the man was at least partially responsible for a great deal of the residence of Azkaban finding their way there, Sirius thankfully not included. Moody was, Harry thought, probably what they had in mind when they coined the term ‘Battle Hardened’. 

So the cornucopia of old injuries and slightly twitchy behaviour made sense in a way it wouldn’t for a lot of people.

But a full body disguise that seemingly hid nothing...that didn’t make sense.

“How has Moody seemed to you?” Harry asked after a long quiet moment, glowing eyes focused on the Headmasters own shadowed ones.

The older man kept quiet a moment longer, considering. “A little more withdrawn, a little closer to flask.” He admitted finally, one hand reaching up to stroke along the length of his beard. “The same complaints about complacency and reminders for diligence and vigilance. But quieter, more reserved.”

“But not enough to strike you as odd?” Harry asked, picking up on the older man's hesitance.

“Not on its own, no. Alastor has not been taking his retirement from the force well.” Albus said quietly, giving both Harry and McGonagall a look to silently tell them that the information was to go no further. “It’s why, despite the trend of Defense teachers I invited him to teach this year personally, rather than go through the normal auditions. He had taken an apprentice auror for a time and it had seemed to help him, but with the training complete…”

Harry hummed quietly. “You wanted to give him something familiar to focus on, rather than the retirement.” He surmised.

“Just so.”

McGonagall frowned at one of the closer tables, whose occupants were engaged in a particularly boisterous conversation of their own. “You are implying that the man who has been teaching our students and dining at our table is not in fact Alastor Moody.” 

“Maybe. Right now I just think there are some things that don’t make sense and so far my instincts haven’t really been wrong when it comes to things like this.” The boy king replied, his own eyes moving back in the direction that he recalled the curious man having been sitting. “I do know that if I was still a student, I would have been poking at the bits that don’t make sense until I knew why.”

Releasing a long, world-weary sigh the Headmaster straightened his shoulders and gave a nod of his head. “I will look into it, discreetly.”

“Perhaps Severus, he might have noticed something?” Minerva suggested, expression worried.

“Or the potion store might.” Harry pointed out as the thought occurred to him. “If it is polyjuice then the ingredients have to be coming from somewhere, I doubt he will have brought a year's worth of polyjuice ingredients along with him. Most of them need to be stored in specific conditions or be used as freshly as possible for best effect.”

Dumbledore seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. “I will ask when I next have a chance.” He turned slightly to look across at the tables before humming. “For now however, it seems as though dinner is served.”

The animagus professor hummed, head tilting up ever so slightly as she seemed to scent the air. “Oh, it smells wonderful. Mr. Potter, please remember that after the meal all of the champions are required back here for photos and a short interview.”

Harry offered a slightly pained smile in return. “I remember.” He replied easily before offering his arm to escort her to the champions table where they had been stationed for the evening when not otherwise occupied.

They were joined by the other champions of course, but also Ron and Hermione who had decided to attend together. Although Harry quickly discovered that they had managed one dance together before they had apparently started bickering and had opted to go their own way for most of the evening. 

Ron with Padma Patil, who had apparently ended up striking up a conversation with him about different fields of study that could have beneficial impacts for athletes like quidditch players and thus, improve their in game abilities. Which in turn seemed to be the magic means that facilitated Ron dancing without even remembering that he was.

Hermione had found her own night saved by Ron’s own brother, in the quick acting gallantry of one Fred Weasley. Fred had surrendered his own date into the care of his twin and had maneuvered Hermione away from Ron so they would stop fighting. 

He had spent the last little while whizzing Hermione around the dancefloor well away from Ron while besieging her with jokes and slightly off-colour humour until she’d had no choice but to smile again.

Or at least that was what Ruknukle reported via their respective pieces of interconnected magical accessories.

He also informed Harry that after hearing the boy king’s conversation with Dumbledore, that he had relayed Harry’s suspicions to the other guards and that they were also on the lookout for any suspicious behaviour.

He had taken a moment to remind his goblin protector about what he’d been told regarding the magic eye Moody wore. And then been politely -- for a grouchy veteran warrior goblin -- the goblin equivalent to ‘not teach your grandmother how to suck eggs’, which basically boiled down to not telling him how to do his job.

Which was fair, Harry thought, since the crotchety goblin had been alive and swinging well before those very handy prosthetics were first invented.

It all meant though that by the time the plates had been cleared away and the photos and interviews were done with, that Harry was already ready for the night to be over.

Admittedly he had very little experience with parties of any sort of variety, having always been locked in his room if there was one going on at the Dursleys. Or otherwise made into waitstaff.

The only other example was the chaotic mess the Gryffindor common room became after a quidditch win, wherein they’d break out the upper years carefully hoarded supply of butterbeer and firewhiskey. Someone would also make a raid down to the kitchens -- with admittedly mixed results -- for snacks that would be similarly shared around while they all celebrated.

A ball, Harry was finding, had none of the closely mirrored hype that would bounce from person to person and back again, bringing with it a new wave of blood pumping adrenaline. 

Instead, it was a lot of social chatter and dancing. Two things Harry thought were incredibly exhausting on their own, particularly when they went on for extended periods of time. Never mind when they went on for hours.

Which, according to his pocket watch, three hours had apparently already passed since they had stepped into the Great Hall.

Three hours of eating, polite conversation, very careful dancing and neatly sidestepping Malfoy who seemed to be intent on jumping into some kind of conversation with Harry that the boy king was exactly zero percent interested in.

Especially after he’d had to step in here and there to settle more disagreements than he really cared to think about.

Which meant that by the time the Weird Sisters climbed up on stage with their gear cranked to eleven, Harry was very much missing the quiet evenings he’d spend flicking through a book or -- as was becoming more of a regular occurrence -- teaching Sirius and Remus this or that spell hat he’d picked up and wanted to share with them.

It got to the point that he finally gave his excuses and had not-quite-stumbled out of the hall to collect his goblins to disapparate from the pounding noise, steering the way back to the comparative tomb-like silence of Grimmauld Place.

All with very little thought about the greedy eyes he was leaving behind.

~*~*~*~*~

#### 26th December 1994 - The Fountain, Skyfall, Volstar

All said and done, it had taken Harry approximately fifteen minutes that morning to decide he was kind of sick of London and that he wanted to spend the remainder of his time from that morning until the next task he had to complete it back in Skyfall.

And all it had taken was seeing a picture of him and McGonagall dancing in the air in the paper for him to decide that he was sick of the scrutiny.

So the whole group had packed up, left instructions with Kreacher to take care of the place and when he should expect them to return and had been pulled through space back to the much warmer sun of Volstar.

Graves had made his goodbyes and had set off to check in with the colleagues that had made the move over the last couple of weeks, ostensibly to make sure they were settling in well enough.

Bill had wandered off to his flat to unpack and -- after, Harry suspected, sending a letter to Fleur -- relax.

The goblins had, upon seeing him deposited safely back on sovereign territory, bowed out to head back to their Hollow to rest and reconnect with their kin.

The elves had done much the same, once they had been assured that Harry had no need for their services just yet.

Which meant Harry was left to sink down onto the lip of the fountain, exchanging the odd wave with citizens on their own way to work.

It was a little startling to find out, upon relaxing there beneath the warm winter sun, just how tense he had been. And more, just how tense he had to have been throughout the entire trip, given the fact that he had thought prior to unwinding, that he had been pretty relaxed already.

A little amazing since he had last been in Skyfall not even a full week ago for dinner and to learn how to dance so Professor McGonagall wouldn’t hex his eyebrows off for embarrassing her.

“Harry?”

Looking up, the teen spotted Remus standing off to one side, apparently having decided that giving Harry a good four to five feet of distance while he was lost in thought was the respectable thing to do.

“Remus, morning.”

“Good morning, we weren’t expecting you back for a couple more days?” The older man said, though it’s phrased more like a question.

“Got homesick.” Harry replied, for lack of a better explanation. “How have things been?”

Drawing closer so he could settle beside him on the lip of the fountain, Remus tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Drinking in the sun's warmth.

He’d managed a decent tan since coming to Volstar and had managed to put on a little weight. Something that pleased Harry quite a bit. Sirius too had soaked up the steady meals and regular exercise, recovering even more from his Azkaban ordeal.

He hadn’t managed to tan though, as it turned out Black blood did not encourage an appreciation of the sun. So while Harry and Remus had both tanned golden in the sun, Sirius just turned worrying shades of pink and red when he tried.

He may or may not be a little sensitive about it.

“They’re good, construction is about halfway on the second elf tower and there’s a team out clearing the site for the Great Library. So far it looks like the construction will go through without an issue.” Remus relayed, the corners of his lips taking an upward tick.

“Oh good, we’ll be able to get to work on making copies of the Black library to put in it.” Harry chirped, already feeling better.

Remus hummed in agreement. “There’s also your own library. You’ve built up quite a few books already.” He added.

“That’s true, I guess. Though it would probably be a lot easier to just buy new copies than unravel the anti-copy protection on all the newer books.” He said, tilting his own head back just a little while he scrutinised the exterior facade of the Seeker’s Rest. “Oh, are we still on for the animagus stuff?”

“Provided you remembered to pick up the things you need for the potion.”

“I did, there wasn’t too much that we were missing. Just the stupid leaf.” The teen huffed, reaching into his magically expanded pocket for the thing, which has been expertly rolled and sealed in a crystal case to protect it from foreign contaminants.

“Then certainly. You’ve been doing your daily meditation?” Remus asked, turning his face away from the sun to study Harry instead. “From what I remember the others saying, the meditation did help ground them in the before and after. James called it making grounding points that helped process the things that changed after.”

“Sirius mentioned that too, he said that what changes depends both on the person and the clarity of the bond?” Harry said, his voice taking on a questioning uptilt.

Remus offered him a small wry smile and a shrug. “I’ll not be much help there I’m afraid. From what I gather it’s quite different from my own situation, so I have no suggestions and recommendations aside from what Sirius and James said when they went through it.”

“Yes, well, I’m not officially due anywhere until late February, so I’ve got time for it now.” Harry reminded him, waving away the half-apology. “And supposedly this time of the year is ripe for thunderstorms here. At least according to the goblins who were in charge of keeping an eye on the island.”

“So all should be well. You’ll be an animagus by the time you have to go back for your next task.” Remus told him, lightly bopping him on the arm. “You and Padfoot can spend a while running up and down the beach. It will do you both some good I think.”

“A bit of time to play.” Harry agreed, finding himself rather eager at the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animagus playtime incoming!  
> It's finally happening! Are we all excited to see what magic I pull out of my ass next? lol  
> I keep managing to surprise you guys with the choices I make story-wise, so who knows, maybe I'll manage it again.  
> If all goes well, next week we'll be jumping to our Glow-boy's first transformation, so stay tuned for that.  
> I'll admit to being pretty excited, I've had his form picked out for months now, trying to keep a lid on it has been surprisingly hard.  
> I just want to see everyone's reactions.  
> Anyway, I'll stop bouncing for now. Feel free to share your thoughts with me in the comments or on Discord (the link is down bellow) where I bounce in and out of conversations like an indecisive ninja.


	24. Harry Bloody Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco ponders things and Harry decides life might be grand somewhere off left stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, happy Monday!  
> I hope you're all doing well and the wait week's wait for this chapter wasn't terribly unbearable.  
> So with that in mind, I'll wish you happy reading and get out of the way.

#### 26th December 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

It was a little startling, the way the quiet of his mind seemed to compete with the loud chatter of the Great Hall.

Honestly it was astounding to him that anyone had the will to be loud at all after the previous night, but Draco supposed the gossip mill stopped for no one’s misery.

He himself had only just managed to drag himself away from his bed and down to breakfast just before the morning post had arrived. Which was how he came to be sitting with the paper half in his plate, staring at the front page.

There were, as always, several articles that had made the front page. Each shuffled and sized for best fit, and no doubt pondered over to decide which articles if viewed in passing were most likely to lure in potential readers.

There were only three though, that had garnered any lingering attention from him, foggy as he had been after the long night of revelry.

The first -- and least impactful, he felt -- was the notice of ascension.

Potter had apparently decided to use his newfound power to award the blasted ginger family to Noble status, effectively putting the Weasley’s and the Malfoy’s on the same political foundation.

Obviously there were still worlds of difference between them, but it did mean that a certain level of civility was demanded on both sides. Regardless of how many years the Blood Feud predated this new change in status, it meant that failure to observe certain social niceties meant a distinct risk to socio-political position.

It was galling.

After everything that had been said and done. Or more importantly what hadn’t been said and done…

Then of course was the second article, announcing there would be a nation-wide period of grieving to honour the loss of their not-really lamented Minister who had finally succumbed to the poison despite ‘best efforts’.

Personally, he thought it was all a steaming heap of shite. He was sure there were droves in the Ministry that were quietly toasting the late Minister for finally kicking off, no doubt relishing the opportunity for someone else to step up to the plate and unfuck the current public opinion.

Not to mention the currently strained relations between Wizarding Great Britain and the International Confederation of Wizards and Volstar.

Which, of course, brought him to the more -- arguably -- important article of the day’s front page.

Harry Bloody Potter.

Sorry, _King_ Harry Bloody Potter.

Who had managed to achieve something his father, grandfather, great-grandfather - and further -- had aspired to, but never quite managed. 

Before he was even of age.

When he’d apparently only been part of their world for four years in total -- if you counted his first year in hiding with his parents -- and with little-to-no actual working political experience.

His father had been absolutely livid when he had discovered what had happened, over the summer. Still was, according to his mothers weekly letters. He had spent quite a bit of money -- even by their families standards -- hiring people to dig up any information they could get on the ‘When’ and ‘How’s of the whole mess.

He had been even less pleased when they had turned up with nothing.

No letters. No meetings. No bribes. No blood pacts.

Nothing.

No leadup to the deal that had crowned Harry Potter king of his own domain -- his own _sizeable_ domain -- and no word since.

Just that a deal had apparently been negotiated and signed between the Underhill, by way of Gringotts London Branch, and the Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter.

Seemingly in the space of a day.

Which anyone with a lick of education in either politics or business could tell you, just didn’t happen. Particularly on large scale deals like that. Each stage needed to be carefully evaluated and negotiated to ensure both parties were satisfied -- if you couldn’t manipulate things to your own advantage -- and there were certain cooling off periods to ensure no one backed out at the end when all the hard work had been done.

Still, the deal, however it happened, wasn’t Draco’s main concern. Despite his own fathers seeming inability to move past it.

No. Draco’s problem was the stupidly powerful feats of magic Potter kept tossing around like bread crumbs at a duck pond.

He had been watching Potter very closely during the first task, admittedly hoping to see the annoying bastard set aflame, crushed or otherwise maimed. But the point was, he had been watching Potter like a hawk, and he had seen neither hide nor hair of any sort of foci.

No sight of wand nor staff, nor scepter.

The entire performance had been entirely raw, unfiltered and instinctively controlled and directed. It was the kind of magic most couldn’t even begin to _fathom_ , much less actually perform.

And it had come out of Potter not once, but twice.

He watched the photo of Potter and McGonagall dance through the air on loop.

Insanely difficult feats of transfiguration, flight, and all the other things that had been invented -- and patented, much to more than one person’s chagrin -- over the last handful of months.

The Dark Lord gone, Dumbledore and the Ministry at large intractable as far as the wants and demands of the old blood were concerned and Volstar rising up out of almost literally nowhere with laws and magical and societal advancements most had argued impossible.

It had inspired more than one heated debate in the quiet sanctuary of the Slytherin common room. And probably not just there.

Especially with the ever spiraling negligence that had become impossible _not_ to notice in the Ministry.

A certain amount of ineptitude here and there was par for the course, his father had told him. It helped certain things go smoothly. Stupidity, greed, negligence all paid a part in getting things done in the Ministry. To know who to bribe, the right whisper in which ear, who would overlook things where other more diligent workers would notice.

It all formed a delicately balanced ecosystem that the worthy could manipulate to best effect.

Too much however, caused problems.

It drew the attention of outsiders and destabilised the ecosystem, turning carefully controlled chaos into absolutely useless madness.

Hence the mess that had been in the papers. And the whispers that were sounding more and more in favour of jumping ship entirely for greener pastures.

There was a certain easily recognisable appeal to that, Draco knew. 

With the country still in its fledgeling state it meant there was a wealth of jobs on offer. Even with the stricter requirements in regards to education and finances, it was an investment that wouldn’t take long at all to see dividends.

Provided you could swallow your own bias regarding blood status and creature and being rights.

Though, from what he had overheard in the common room -- and around quiet halls about the school, that he may or may not have lurked nearby -- that didn’t seem like much of an issue for most. Even among the other pureblood students.

Which had inspired the question.

_What, outside of his family, was actually keeping him in Britain?_  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  


#### 1st February 1995 - City Outskirts, Skyfall, Volstar Island.

Harry had spent the last little while staring intently at the clouds that had blown in from the east that morning, watching them grow steadily darker until finally lightning had flashed arcing in a jagged line and crashing down to earth.

This was it, he could feel it dancing along his skin and tingling at the nape of his neck.

The time and the place.

Here, feet bare on the blackened patch of grass where the first lightning strike had touched down, he would drink down the potion that had turned a wicked blood-red in its crystal phial and complete the last step in his blessedly short journey to freeing his animagus form.

Remus and Sirius were standing shoulder to shoulder a couple of meters away, eyes locked onto him.

Over the last month Sirius had been pouring through their transfiguration books to give himself a crash course refresher on all things animagus. He had been absolutely sure that somehow Harry would do something that would set them all on their asses so had buried himself in their combined library and had glowered at Harry when the teen had suggested that he might be exaggerating things a tad.

Remus had kindly taken over most of Harry’s day to day business, checking in with the various construction teams, settler groups and fielding mail. Things that ranged from brief check-ins, to more complex matters like keeping track of their resources and negotiations to cement trade agreements.

All the while Harry fasted and meditated, communing with the deepest reaches of his Self. And then when it was time, gathered together the ingredients he needed and set to work carefully adding them together so they would break down and blend into their new form.

The Animagus Potion.

It had been a bit of a hassle, since the timing of each step of the process had to be exactly right. But now, now the potion was complete, the spell was cast and each flash of lightning caused an echoing beat in his chest to dance alongside his own steady heartbeat.

Surrendering to instinct Harry let loose his hold on his magic and let it spill out around him, blanketing the area in near oppressive power.

The teen cast one more look to his godfather and friend before swiftly uncapping the phial and downing the mouthful of blood red potion before stuffing the empty phial in his pocket to be sterilized and reused.

Almost immediately heat began to radiate out from his core, burning hot along his limbs and seemingly growing hotter with each thumping beat and echoing beat of his heart.

It escalated, growing hotter and hotter until he could barely feel anything beyond the burn, hear anything beyond the beat until finally when he thought he was surely going to burn up from the inside out, he noticed a different sensation. 

It almost felt like he was being stretched.

Like giant hands had grabbed hold of him from both ends and were pulling him in separate directions to see if his arms and legs would just pop off his body.

There was a flash of light over and around him that blinded him and all he could smell was ozone, all he could taste was rain.

The sensations continued to spiral higher and higher until he felt dizzy with them, blinded by it and numbed to everything else but the burning inside him, the pounding beat in his ears and the soothing taste of pure rain on his tongue.

Eventually though he came back to himself enough to feel that he was lying down, breath shuddering in and out of his exhausted body.

Gradually his vision cleared and his hearing returned to him, at least enough so he could hear and understand the words someone was saying nearby. Even if his mind was a little sluggish to register.

“...d to tell with him curled up the bit that he is.”

“Got to be around, fuck, around fifty feet tip to tip.”

“Four toes. Those claws have to be...they are. Eleven centimeters for the shortest and…fifteen for the longest.”

“Look at that blend of scale, plates and fur. And those horns...are they horns you reckon, or antlers?”

“They look a bit more like antlers than most horns or spikes. Not entirely the same though.”

“And that patterning, he’s definitely not built for stealth. Hey, have you found his breed in the book yet?”

“Not yet, I had it marked to the Europe natives. I honestly wasn’t expecting him to have a form that comes from somewhere further than Ireland.” The voice fell quiet for half a moment before speaking again. “Actually, why is that? You, Peter and James all have...had...you all had forms that we could find here. Just about every animagus I’ve met since leaving Hogwarts has had a form that reflected the place they were born. Harry’s doesn’t though.”

“Mm, it’s a bit of a misconception that. It’s a bit like the argument about nature versus nurture, since most animagus do end up with a form that’s close to home, most people believe that the environment and local factors play a bigger part in determining form than is actually true. The nurture side of things.”

“From the look on your face, I gather that’s not strictly true.”

“Right, the thing most people forget about is soul. The animagus is the truest reflection of our core selves, our base animal selves. And souls have no border, no culture or sovereign, they just are. Our animagus reflects us in a way that cannot be lied about or otherwise obfuscated. Everything we are is there for all the world to see.”

“Provided you understand the beast in question.”

“Yeah, that helps.”

“Ah, found it, in the Korean section. The _Osyontaigo_ or _Bada-Horangi Yong_ , oh I probably butchered that. Ah, right, Korean native dragon of the Yong genus, strong water affiliation and power. Purely carnivorous and impeccable hunters. Very fast in the air and underwater but somewhat cumbersome on land. Oh that’s handy.”

“What?”

“Two methods of breathing. They can breathe underwater and in open air, in fact it says here that they have four lungs and particularly powerful hearts because they like to sleep at the bottom or rivers, lakes and oceans. That’s why they’ve got such a sturdy chest compared to most asian dragons and those thick plate scales, to protect against jagged rocks and coral outcrops.”

“Does it say anything about the fur?”

“A lure apparently. When they’re underwater it floats waves with the current which lures in fish looking for somewhere to hide, then they snap them up and eat the fish.”

“Huh, that’s pret- Harry, Pup can you hear me?”

Harry for all his want to answer only managed a groaned garble of noise as he slammed his eyes shut tight.

“Okay, you’re okay. The first shift is always bad, I remember that very vividly, so don’t try to get up just yet. You’ll probably experience a horrific amount of vertigo and end up on your face anyway.” Sirius told him.

And it was Sirius. The more time passed the more clear Harry’s mind became, at least enough that he could begin to process information properly and as he lay there he began to consciously note the things his body was experiencing.

The feeling of rain hitting his body and the smell of it mixing with recently disturbed earth. He could smell what he assumed was Remus and Sirius and felt what he assumed was a hand brushing over what he could feel was his nose. Although as more and more of his brain woke up and returned to normal function he thought over the information Remus had read out from the giant book of beasts he had brought along, he wondered if he should think of it as his snout?

“You’re probably more sore than anticipated, sorry about that. Only you would get struck by lightning mid-transformation, Pup.” Sirius said.

That probably explained all the jittering and muscle twitching, he realised.

“Gave us quite a shock, luckily we could see you were still breathing. Speaking of which, I’d like to call Healer Graves out to do a proper checkup, just in case.” Remus said from somewhere on his right.

With great effort he managed to lift his head enough to nod in acquiescence before oh so slowly peeling his eyes open.

“Well, good news.” Sirius informed him cheerfully as he slowly came into focus. “Your eyes are still green and they still glow.”

Harry huffed at the man and opted to ignore him in exchange for slowly wiggling and flexing his fingers and toes.

To his left he heard the telltale pop of apparation and slowly raised his head so he could turn his focus, just in time to see a very wide eyed Frederick Graves beat a hasty retreat.

Sirius gave a hearty laugh at the reaction and stepped back a couple of steps to give Harry more room since he seemed to be shaking off the worst of the transformation disorientation. “No need to fear, it’s still our Harry in there. He just decided to throw us for a loop again.”

Graves moved in closer at the reassurance, dual coloured eyes watching Harry intently. “His eyes seem to be struggling to focus.” He mutters, blond brows drawing down in a frown as he draws out his wand. “I didn’t think people could have a magical animagus?”

“It’s pretty rare, although I think the numbers are a bit skewed by how few people actually try to become an animagus. And you know, the amount of people that actually register themselves.” Sirius replied easily, giving a half-hearted shrug. “As for his eyes, the fact that he was struck by lightning might have something to do with that.”

“What?!” Graves exclaimed and quickly flew through a barrage of diagnostic spells.

Remus moved around where Harry could see him, wand raised to shield himself and the thick book he had been reading from the rain. “We know from experience that an elevated heart rate and some muscle spasms are a normal side effect from the first transformation. So it’s a little difficult to pick out the natural expected side effects and what was caused from the electric shock.”

“How experienced?”

“Three individuals, fifteen years of age. Sirius, Peter Pettigrew and his father, James Potter.” Remus answered succinctly. “All three had elevated heart rates, muscle spasms, some temporary blindness and deafness and a fierce appetite post transformation. The negative effects faded and then ceased completely over a period of a half hour.”

“Any loss of motor function or difficulty distinguishing between individuals?” The healer asked evenly as he poured over the results from his spells.

“Some disorientation but no actual loss. The three transformed at the same time so there was some confusion when they recovered as to who was who, but they were all able to hear and understand me when I explained.” Remus told him, catching sight of Sirius pulling a face out of the corner of his eye at the memory.

Graves hummed quietly. “What form was his father?”

“Stag.” Sirius answered, moving closer again now the wand waving was done with to resume running his hand over his godsons nose. “Red deer, specifically.”

“So completely different then.” The healer said before shifting his focus back to the glowing green eyes that had been watching him work. “Alright Harry, the scans were all clear aside from the bit of dehydration that you warned me would happen. How are you feeling?”

“ **Better than before.** ”

They all stopped for a long moment, shocked by the deep voice. Both for the fact that he apparently still had a voice and that it’s quality was so different from his human voice.

“Ah, I hadn’t gotten to that part. His particular breed is one of the sapient varieties. One moment…” Remus quickly and rather awkwardly shuffles the book in his arm so he can read from it properly.

“ _Asian dragons when compared to their European counterparts are as different as night and day. They are largely benevolent in nature, their few sapient species often deified and worshipped in exchange for their wisdom and protection. They are closely associated with the element of water and in fact breathe water rather than fire with only a few notable exceptions and are more closely tied to serpents, while their European counterparts are almost uniformly fire breathers and are more closely related to lizards…_ ”

“So the Pup’s a living fire hydrant?” Sirius snorted, earning himself a rumble from Harry at the teasing.

Remus rolled his eyes and pressed on. “ _Similarly most asian dragons utilise their own powerful magics to fly, rather than wings like their European cousins. Once again with only a few notable exceptions that are commonly believed to originate from early attempts to crossbreed certain traits among the various non-sapient breeds._

“ _These Eastern species are closely tied to all forms of water, including but not limited to; rivers, lakes, underwater caves, rain, storms and the ocean. They have in the past also been tied to agriculture, luck and healing. Likely due to historical intervention of these sapient and benevolent dragons during times of draught._ ”

More curious now, Sirius shifted back, leaning around Remus’s arm to read from the book. “ _Where their European cousins are largely viewed as beasts of great power and destruction with few exceptions, the same is not true with Asian varieties. By and large Asian dragons are considered to be great protectors and guides. So much so that muggle mythos often portrays them as heavenly beasts, messengers of gods if not gods themselves._ Well, they got the protective part right...where’s the list of traits...”

Sirius started flicking back and forth through the book while Remus tried to hold it steady without displacing or dropping his umbrella charm.

Turning away from the other men, Frederick leveled his focus on Harry’s large form instead. “Do you think you can stand Harry, at least long enough to take down your physical characteristics?” He asked carefully, backing up a bit to make sure he had plenty of room, just in case.

“ **I think so.** ” He said as he carefully shifted to get his hands and feet under him. 

With a great heave and only a bit of wobble Harry managed to get himself up onto his feet and promptly found himself towering over the three men.

“Alright, let me know if you have to lay down again, Harry. I’ll try to be quick.” The Healer told him before he started to shoot off quick charms to measure him. “Sixteen meters from nose to tail tip, not counting the fur. That’s another meter. Two and a half meters from hip to hip. Four meters from shoulder to shoulder. Five meters from shoulder to top of the head, plus one meter for horns. Claws…”

“Oh, here it is!” Sirius exclaimed, jostling Remus as he tried to turn the book about for him to see the section he was looking at better. “Protective, wise, humble, brave, devoted, kind, insightful...quick to anger, quick to forgive, slow to forget.”

“You’re going to make me drop it.” Remus chided.

“Harry, can you lower your head for me?” Frederick requested, gesturing toward himself with one hand.

Looking away from the bickering Marauders to his healer and Harry dropped his head, holding himself patiently in place while the older man pushed aside long tufts of fur that had fallen forward over his brow.

“Huh, that’s odd. Your scar transferred over to this form.”

“ **Shouldn’t it?** ” Harry asked, perplexed.

“No, most scars and other distinguishing marks that a person has doesn’t appear on their animagus. That’s why the registration forms ask specifically for the distinguishing marks of both forms, so regardless of which state we end up in, emergency services have means to identify us. Since the transformation back and forth is affected by our conscious will, we can pass out and stay in our other forms until we wake up and shift...or I guess get hit by the spell.” Sirius explained, abandoning Remus and the book to move over beside Graves to study the scar.

The same scar that despite the rest of Harry’s physical body changing had remained exactly the same. The same size, the same shape and even the same colour scar tissue, despite the area it was located now being of an entirely different colour and skin texture.

Healer Graves hummed thoughtfully. “I did check it with the standard array, but aside from noting that it was resistant to external magic, nothing much registered as odd about it. Have any of the goblin healers or shamans had a look?”

Harry shook his head, just slightly. “ **Didn’t seem like there was much point.** ” He said, and absently noted that his new form didn’t seem particularly geared towards shrugging.

“You said once last year that it hurt a couple of times. Around your first year Defense professor, if I remember correctly.” Remus cut in as he moved to stand with the others, tome shrunk down and returned to his pocket.

The look Frederick leveled on Harry was not a particularly flattering one, in fact, the teen felt it was safe to say that his healer was silently bemoaning every stupid thing Harry had ever done. All with the silent raising of one brow.

He was a little curious to know if his healer and his very dear transfiguration professor were in any way related.

McGonagall had similarly been able to make him feel just as foolish with a very similar look.

“ **Goblins?** ” 

“Goblins.” Graves agreed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
By the time everyone had finished subjecting him to their seemingly nonstop tests and cleansing rituals, Harry -- still in his animagus form -- was only slightly less disorientated than when they had started.

He was definitely hungrier and much more disturbed.

The latter of which had not helped him calm down enough to change back to his human state and when combined with the discovery that the forced reversal spell merely bounced off his scales like a paper ball, it meant that Harry had little choice but to take the opportunity to learn how to hunt in his new form.

Which, as it turned out, was actually a deeply pleasant experience.

Something the teen was immensely grateful for, since it had to counterbalance the knowledge that he had apparently been walking around with a hunk of his would-be murderer's soul lodged in his scar.

Sirius had taken worse than Harry himself had, retreating into his own animagus form in a way he hadn’t since before they had made that first move to their new home, refusing to speak to any of them. Though he had opted to stay close to Harry, dogging his steps while the teen had made his way down to the beach and waiting curled up on the warm sand while Harry dived about in the water for fish to eat.

It just about broke Harry’s heart to see the behaviour resurface, since he knew first hand how much progress he had made over the course of his informal therapy sessions.

Though he made sure to gently remind Sirius, while in a large loop around the older animagus, that some setbacks were expected when dealing with mental and emotional trauma. That his need to turn inward to the familiar comfort and escape of his animagus’ more simpler emotions was neither unexpected nor shameful, particularly in the wake of such a world shaking revelation.

It was never wrong to seek out comfort when distressed by something truly horrific.

Which, Harry felt, summed up the whole topic of Horcruxes to the nth degree.

Let alone the fact that he apparently had been one for most of his life without knowing.

Everyone else had had an almost uniform response of grim determination.

Healer Graves had set about discussing the matter with Stoneshaker, the head shaman for the goblins of Skyfall. And Grimmaw, their head healer. 

Remus had quietly excused himself to head back into the city proper with the intention of doing a deep dive into the Black library. His focus set on the small mountain of books that dealt almost exclusively with curses, black rituals and the warded journals of some of the more twisted individuals to dot the family tree.

Which considering the ‘average’ proclivities of the House at large, had earned the whole mess a wide berth previously.

Goldhammer, who had accompanied Stoneshaker and Grimmaw as he tended to when Harry was involved, had informed the boy king that he would need to discreetly inform his own king so they could utilise the resources of the Underhill to further look into the matter.

It seemed recklessly seeking immortality was a purely human endeavour so the general response undertaken the last -- and only -- time the goblins had been confronted with a horcrux the response had been to simply destroy it and everything related to it.

With great prejudice.

Needless to say, given how invested they were in Harry being whole and hearty, that particular option was well and truly off the table.

Nevertheless, before he had left to chase down his own avenues he had suggested a few places Harry and company might look for more information, if not outright answers. Egypt, and by extension Africa itself, for their deep studies into life and death. India, for their studies and belief in the cycle of soul rebirth. And Japan, who had made great strides over the last millennia into healing magics and rituals.

He had also noted that Harry’s animagus form might open doors that would otherwise remain closed to outsiders, purely because of the importance and symbolism of his particular form in their culture.

So everyone else had rushed off to look into the matter and find some means of rectifying the horrifying problem while Harry himself decided that he had had enough shocks for the day.

And he’d been hit by lightning, so he rather thought he deserved to have the rest of the day off.

So rather than run about in a mad dash effort to investigate and fix the -- frankly horrific -- problem, the teen opted to shelf the problem for the moment and let everyone else deal with it while he curled up in the warm sand under the cloudy sky. 

Wrapped around Padfoot in a protective circle while the older man alternated between dozing and using his currently simplified thoughts and emotions to slowly work his way through the here and now.

For all his shiny new form might be vaguely attributed to luck and many other splendid things, Harry couldn’t help but think that he had maybe used all of his up on Volstar.

He was pretty certain that the only luck he had left was bad luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shimmy to the side. 
> 
> A little (not little at all, he's huge) reminder of the way Harry is both same-but-different. Though, ngl, I was seriously tempted to make him a butterfly or a pigeon because I think that would have been hilarious, personally.
> 
> So, let me know what you think. Either in comments down below or by jumping onto the Discord Server (invite down below) and sharing your thoughts with the 64 other peeps that get to chill out and have access to a bunch of backstage information and a glorious geek-buddy network.
> 
> *waves* See you there!


	25. Are you Magic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one thing after another and the second task gets in the way of Harry's research attempts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, Lovelies.  
> A bit of a short chapter this time, thanks to the absolute shitscape that was my week.  
> Two migraines, a broke computer chair, a mild case of food poisoning and a friend in crisis in the space of a single week is really not recommended.  
> But best face forward, write when I can and somehow I still managed to pull together a decent(?) chapter.
> 
> Hopefully this new week will be a better one.  
> Either way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter...

#### 12th February 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

Weeks had passed since his first transformation into his animagus form and their discovery that he was in fact a living horcrux for the British Dark Lord, the self titled Lord Voldemort. And to say that he had been feeling a little wary that morning with the second Tri-Wizard task about to be underway, would have been a gross understatement, Harry thought.

Though it wasn’t particularly surprising given the last time he had ventured out into the Forbidden Forest he and Ron had nearly ended up as dinner for an enormous colony of acromantula.

Something that still gave poor Ron the most horrible nightmares.

Though given the fact they had been an entire twelve years old at the time, the level of lingering trauma wasn’t particularly surprising. Especially since Ron had already been arachnophobic prior to their nearly disastrous jaunt into the forest.

Although, that said, Harry had felt the ripe old age of fourteen wasn’t much better. A thought he had shared with Sirius and Remus to mixed results.

Mostly what he got back was tales of their own forest bound exploits and some tips on what plants he should avoid and which ones could be finagled into place for use in some form of mischief or another.

Needless to say, he had taken copious mental notes.

The last couple of weeks had been exhausting though, aside from odd moments of brevity that everyone in the know tried for with wildly fluctuating degrees of success.

They had spent most of their time pouring through their combined book collections looking for any bit of information they might have already had on hand. Which unsurprisingly had turned out to be a small stack of books from the Black library, though most of those had only contained a mention or two or some oblique reference to some other rogue wizard or estranged family member.

A family member whose entire space on the family tapestry had been rendered down to blackened ash and burnt edges.

The Prophet had been a continued source of bamboozled looks and huffed comments. 

Particularly when it was revealed in bold print that it had been the late British Ministers own secretary that had done him in. Despite all the thinly veiled insinuations some journalists -- that would remain nameless -- had slipped in a time or two, implying that Harry himself might have had something to do with it.

Snape whispered hints that it wouldn’t be surprising if he did, powerful as he was and with all the failed attempts at negotiations.

Attempts that Madam Bones’ official letter had explained as having been intentionally sabotaged by the self same Undersecretary that had poisoned her boss with a muggle toxin of all things. All the while announcing, upon being confronted by the investigating aurors that she had been doing her duty for Queen and country. 

Protecting their world from an invading threat.

What that threat was, hadn’t been explicitly covered. Either in an official letter of apology or in the paper but the implication was so strong it probably could have taken part in the tournament.

Granted the next day the Prophet had run a piece the following day that seemed heavily intent on reminding everyone of Harry’s many achievements. The least of which seemed to now be his oldest title as ‘The Boy-Who-Lived’.

It had been so terribly obvious a fluff piece meant to appease him and whatever imagined ire he held towards Britain, that Sirius had made a joke about buying a couple of copies to stuff pillows with.

Harry hadn’t been entirely sure how he wanted to deal with the whole situation -- or if he wanted to touch it at all -- so he had settled for jotting an open letter to Wizarding Great Britain as a whole, assuring them in a roundabout fashion that Volstar had no intentions of holding a grudge against the region for the actions of one clearly disturbed woman.

His letter to Madam Bones and the British Wizengamot had been longer and included more flowery language, but in essence had said the same thing. Plus a very politely worded suggestion that they might consider an inquiry into better mental health care to help prevent similarly troubled souls from suffering in anonymity in the future.

Sirius had proof read the letters and given the young king a rather amused side-eyed glance and made a quiet, though amused comment that perhaps the Sorting Hat hadn’t been too far off the mark when it considered Harry for Slytherin.

Harry still hadn't been entirely sure how he felt about that particular comment, even months after he had stopped thinking so poorly of the old Hogwarts House.

He did have some good news though, he had taken the time to write to the leaders of both the Japanese and Egyptian magical communities and had received a positive response back to his request for an educational visit. 

He had yet to hear back from India but he hadn’t been worried. The goblins had warned him ahead of time that of the communities he was attempting to contact, India in particular tended to spend quite a while giving each foreign request put to them a great deal of consideration before offering back any form of response.

Which meant that as soon as he was done with the second task, with everything still progressing smoothly and on schedule back in Skyfall, Harry would be able to travel again and start asking the questions he needed to.

Which brought him back to the glorified scavenger hunt that was apparently the second task.

Their goal for the task was to head into the Forbidden forest, secure viable potion ingredients without falling prey to the dangers within it and then successfully craft a potion with the ingredients they recovered.

The task had been split down into two parts, with a small break between the two for spectators to take a break while the champions had any minor injuries cared for. 

Along with that titbit of information was the general understanding that any champion that fell to the dangers of the forest would therefore be unable to participate in the second half of the event. Effectively halving their potential points.

Being tested was not only their ability to recognise and handle potentially volatile plants and beasts, but their ability to navigate in a hostile environment. And to top it off their skill in handling those raw ingredients and rendering them into a functional potion.

Somehow, Harry had been sure Snape _loved_ the fact that he had been dragged in -- along with the resident potion professors of both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang -- to review both the ingredients and the end result. 

Severus Snape, strong armed into participating in any way while literally thousands of people spread across several countries watched on?

He was going to be an absolute _treat_ to deal with, Harry knew.

Shaking off the thought and turning his attention more fully to the task at hand, the young king contemplated the potions he had learned and the potential ingredients the forest might play home to. He had learned far more since leaving Hogwarts than he had during his three years as a student.

Though really that hadn't been much of a surprise considering the constraints the school was under in regards to what age students learned which thing and even whether they had access to sufficient resources to facilitate the lesson. Being able to source enough phoenix tears, for example, to try -- and mostly inevitably fail -- to teach dozens of students each year how to brew a single potion that called on them as a required ingredient was frankly untenable.

Add to that, the fact that he could pour over and absorb information in a fraction of a speed of even the fastest speed readers meant that he had a significant leg up when it came to memorising recipes and theory.

He had no idea if the Tri-Wizard Tournament organisers had added foreign beasts and plants to the forest for the duration of the second task, or if they had actually given some thought to preserving the delicate eco-system of the forest and had refrained from doing so. Which meant that aside from a handful of native species, he had no way of knowing for certain just what could be found within.

Harry looked away from the forest to peek down at his arms, double checking the straps of the rune inscribed crystals tied to them. Positioned to face outward, away from his body they would ‘watch’ and broadcast anything that occurred to the left and right of him as if seen by a human eye to the linked screens. The same applied to the crystals that were centered front and back of his torso, allowing viewers to see everything he could see and anything that came up behind him.

The other three champions were wearing the same arrangement after they had all rigorously tested them to make sure they wouldn’t impede their ability to cast and move about when it mattered.

It had taken him and Sirius almost every free moment of the past week to get them all done and properly working in synchronised pattern with the crystal viewing screens. But it seemed just about the only way they could allow spectators to watch the event without staring at the edge of the forest or the tops of the trees for the hour or so they had for this first part of the task.

The second half of the event had been carefully set up in the arena they had used for the first task, albeit with a proper level floor put in so they at least wouldn't need to worry about taking a misstep into a chasm. 

_Although, that might appeal to some people._ Harry thought.

Due to the danger of the forest and the fact that they already had a perfectly suitable place to view the spectacle, rather than try to construct multiple spots for spectator seating they had opted to keep everyone that wasn’t vital to the event seated in that first arena.

The inclusion of Harry’s real time viewing crystal arrays meant that people no longer had to jockey for better views, that they could all stay seated out of the way, and more importantly well away from danger.

Which had been an interesting sort of thought process given how close they had been a couple of months ago to some very angry dragons. Though he had supposed given the warding could be focused very specifically on impeding fire and dragons specifically.

If they went by that sort of logic, then there were too many species in the Forbidden Forest to accurately cover them all. Since the wards that were being used were rather basic in form, even if they had been fed a fair amount of power.

To one side of the clearing that served as the outskirts of the forest, Madam Hooch sat comfortably astride her broom, facing off in the direction of the arena, waiting for the flare that would signal that they were supposed to begin the task and enter the forest.

Given how long they had already been waiting someone was obviously having a great deal of fun giving whatever speech they thought was vitally important to share with everyone.

On one hand Harry was eager to get underway. The sooner started, the sooner finished.

Or something like that.

On the other hand though, it did give him more time to think on the appearance of ex-auror Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody who had been stationed at the forest's edge and was one of the adults charged with rescuing the champions in the event they ran into something they couldn’t deal with.

An attempt to enact a landmark historic event of zero sapient deaths during the tournament.

He would believe that possible when he saw it, given the apparent lack of forethought he had already witnessed.

Though, the fact that the Moody was the real one -- who apparently had been ambushed and stuffed in his own trunk for harvesting according to the letter Dumbledore had sent Harry -- and not the supposedly dead Death Eater son of Lord Crouch…

Well, Harry had some pretty mixed feelings regarding placing his potential well being in the hands that had spent nearly half a year as a prisoner of a ‘dead’ man he had apparently been originally responsible for seeing jailed.

What little bit of information had been missing from the letter the old headmaster had sent him in follow up to the suspicions Harry had shared with him and McGonagall had been almost eagerly filled in by a combination of Sirius and Goldhammer, who had been visiting his office when the letter arrived.

But the story meant that two people had -- by very different means -- escaped from a jail that the British Ministry historically claimed to be inescapable.

It certainly meant he himself would be putting much more thought into the jails that would inevitably need to be built on Volstar. As much as he would like to think they would have no need of them and the current lack of crime would continue on as the population continued to slowly but steadily rise...He was more of a realist than that.

But that was a thought best saved for another day.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Harry turned his focus up to Madam Hooch who had reached down to lift her whistle from where it had been dangling from its chain against her chest.

With one shrill blow of the silver whistle he was off into the forest and knew the other three teens would be moving just as quickly.

He knew courtesy of **Hogwarts: A History** , which had a chapter detailing the history and general composition of the forest, that very few of the plants that were usable as ingredients grew close to the edge of the forest with its greater access to full sunlight. Instead he would have to head deeper.

He worked on keeping his footsteps light, like Sirius had taught him and tried to keep as much to visible and open patches of ground to avoid stepping on anything that might hold a grudge.

As it was he was perhaps ten minutes into his trek into the forest when he started taking note of the plants and creature trails, back where even thrill seeking students and the cursory patrols of professors didn’t often tread. 

It meant the area was less likely to be disturbed from external forces and Harry doubted anyone but Snape and Hagrid came this far into the forest. Though, he supposed Dumbledore might on occasion if he needed to speak to the centaur tribe that called the forest home.

In decent succession Whisperweed, Billingsroot, Moly, Dittany and a few other choice plants made their way into a conjured case, each compartment carefully sized and separated to make sure they weren’t able to interact. They tended to grow in shared environments so it made finding them individually a more difficult task if you were particularly worried about contamination or the assortment of critters that liked to make their nests around the low growing plants and roots.

He had just spotted a rather bountiful Hellebore plant when quiet hissing drew his attention more solidly to the forest around him.

Glowing eyes swept the forest floor and the trees in search of whatever snake must be near.

He just about has a heart attack when the creature slinks, ever so quietly, further into sight.

Not in the trees, nor slithering in the underbrush. The beast creeps amongst the trees on nimble cloven hooves, leopard torso held low to the ground as it stalks, snakes head and neck moving almost ponderously to and fro as it scents the air.

All at once his mouth is dry, his throat a desert and he wants nothing more than to throttle someone. 

Preferably whomever thought it would be a grand idea to drop a questing beast into a tournament for pseudo trained children.

He knew from his studies into magical creatures that they are wicked fast, despite their ungainly appearance. Knew that they are expert and relentless hunters and near as toxic as basilisks and that they're near impervious to physical attacks and resistant to lesser forms of magic.

He also knew, and is very thankful for the fact that they are by and large solitary in nature, because the thought of trying to deal with even one of them worries him in a way that raging mother dragons didn’t.

Likely because as impressive as dragons tended to be, they were famous for their ferocity. 

Not their lethality.

A very small bitter part of Harry wondered if even half the audience understands just how much danger they were all in.

Questing beasts travelled through the places between.

Which meant that wards were effectively useless against them.

Which did beg the question of how they had even managed to get it there to begin with, but he would worry about that later.

He had much bigger problems to deal with for the moment.

Like making sure the beast stayed focused on him and didn’t try to hunt the other three champions. 

Because as sure he was that they had tried to prepare themselves as much as they could, he rather doubted they had recently been on the receiving end of an intervention that had been put together with the express purpose of drilling into them just how potent their magic actually was. 

With an added very serious warning to pay very close attention to their magic lest it take on a mind of its own, literally, and start enacting effects without any input from themselves. Conscious or otherwise.

Suffice it to say that the past fortnight had been a mixed bag of compounding problems for Harry.

Catching sight of the very moment when the beast’s own attention focused in on him the young king quickly ran through possible fixes only for his mind temporarily went quiet as the creature lunged at him.

Harry dove out of the way then rapidly rolled across the vegetation lush ground to avoid a whip fast kick of its hind legs. A quick jerk of his hand and a thick vines shot out from the underbrush to try and wrap around its legs to try and hinder its movement.

They held just long enough for him to get his feet back under him and get some more distance between them.

He had a mad moment to wonder if he could manage to turn it into a duck like he had done the Swedish Short-Snout in the first task but quickly abandoned the thought when it leapt at him again.

He dodged out of the way and a slash of his hand had a wild gust of wind slap into the beast’s side, sending it careening into the trunk of a thick tree. Then he has hands up, magic flaring as he pushes it into the tree watching intently as the tree itself starts to grow around the beast, wrapping it up and looking for all the world like it was absorbing the creature.

It was only because of his intense focus that Harry noticed the second the beast's own magic started to push back against the tree.

Unwilling to divert the flow of his magic into another action that may be even less effective, Harry instead increased the flow of his own strength.

He loosened the hold he kept on it, letting it rush to the surface like a tsunami and barely managed to give it the meanest of direction as a wave of euphoria swept over him. The high of powerful magic rushing through his veins so fiercely he imagined even his lips tingled with it.

The beast broke into a rash of angry barking, sounding for all the world like a pack of dogs after prey as it struggled, magic at war over and around its body.

Fighting down a shudder at the mad sound, Harry doubled down, slamming his power into the magic he was weaving and watching with intensely glowing eyes as little by little the questing beast was absorbed into the tree.

It felt like hours, it felt like seconds. It felt like horror crawling up his throat, trying to spill out into the world in waves of mad cacophonous barking.

But eventually the tree was near five times the size it had been originally, well and truly wrapped around the beast and itself. New growth shooting up every which way and roots as thick around as Hagrid was tall.

Vaguely aware that more than just his eyes were glowing, Harry pushed the thought aside and instead moved forward the few steps required for him to rest his hand against the much expanded trunk. 

His magic continued to flow around him and he let his senses follow it, down into the heart of the tree and out into the small clearing.

He could feel the beast still alive inside the tree, heart beating in gradually slowing rhythm until it matched the pulse of Harry’s own heart.

The teen had a brief moment to wonder if maybe he had unconsciously tied the beasts' own life to his own somehow or vice versa, before he turned away and came face to face with a wide eyed Cedric Diggory.

The older teens expression was lax with shock but his hand was tight around his wand, posture held at the ready as if he had thought to intervene or assist. His own eyes were focused on Harry and there was something there that struck the young king as familiar but unnamable.

Something he had encountered before, enough to recall it, but not be able to give name to it.

He watched the older teen drop down to one knee and had a brief moment of panic as he looked back through his memory for the possibility that the other had been there, injured already on the ground or behind some tree when Harry had arrived.

“Merlin.”

The name was a choked whisper, barely audible, but it dragged his focus back to the older teenager. “Cedric?”

The Hufflepuff Seeker shuddered, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a rare display of nerves. “Are yo-Are you Merlin?” He asked, voice husky and eyes so wide that Harry can see his reflection in the dark of his pupils.

He can see the thick shroud of tangible magic, the gently wavering strands of hair caught up in a breeze that wasn’t there. 

He felt like he fell into those wide, wide eyes. So far that he felt he knew Cedric in a way he never had before.

Knew that Cedric liked hearty stews and butterbeer in front of the fire, surrounded by friends. He knew that Cedric thought he might fall in love with Cho one day. He knew that Cedric loved his father dearly, though he did embarrass him sometimes with his eager support and ready affection, and that he missed his mother dearly, though he only truly remembers the smell of her soap and the way she smelt of baked sweets.

Harry knew that when Cedric looked at him, he saw something that Harry didn’t, or maybe couldn’t when he looked in the mirror.

For a wild moment Harry isn’t quite sure what to say, his mind is quiet in a way it hasn’t been for a while, even in sleep. His heart is beating slow and steady while his magic swims around him, coiling outward much like his animagus form.

He was pretty sure he was still a bit high from the magic rush and doubted that would clear up until he pulled his magic back in tight to his core.

“I don’t think so.” He said instead, belatedly realising that Cedric had actually meant his whispered question.

“Oh.” The older teen sighs, shoulders drooping just a little as if disappointed.

They stay there in silence for a moment, Cedric still down on one knee and Harry watching him with open curiosity. Eventually Cedric looked up again, focusing his attention on the young king.

“Are you Magic?” Cedric asks, very seriously.

Despite the tone, Harry laughed just a little, an escape of lingering tension. “Yes.” He answers, because it was true.

Harry Potter was a wizard, that meant that Harry Potter was magic.

Even if he was convinced most days that he was really nothing special, despite all the praise Sirius liked to heap at his feet.

Sirius was his godfather, he was practically contractually obligated to adore Harry.

But Cedric’s expression changed. There was awe where confusion had been and now Harry isn’t half wondering if he shouldn’t have said ‘No’.

“Come on,” he said instead of asking about it. “We have a task to finish, before it starts pouring on us.”

The older teen blinked and glanced up at the clear sky, expression returning back to confused. “I don’t think it was meant to rain today, though.”

Harry shrugged and turned to look around the clearing one more time. “Let’s call it a hunch, yeah?” He suggested, giving the other a small smile before he turned his attention inward and set to work squashing his magic back down beneath the confines of his skin.

“There’s still a half hour left for this section of the task.” Cedric said quietly, looking down at a pocket watch he had slipped into his hand.

“Plenty of time.” Harry replied when he had finally reigned in the spill of magic and all but his eyes had ceased glowing. “I was about to harvest a bit of Hellebore when the beast showed up. The plant seemed a decent size, you could probably get a bit yourself.”

Moving over to where he had spotted the plant, Harry was pleased to see it hadn’t been damaged in the scuffle. Dropping down beside it he set to work separating out some of the more choice bits, leaves and stalks that were less exposed to the elements and wandering creatures.

He took note of the way the older teen kept a respectful distance between them even while he was kneeling hunched over the plant to harvest his own cuttings, but opted to push the behaviour to the back of his mind for later perusal.

Hellebore cuttings acquired, Harry dusted himself off and cast a look around, sweeping the small clearing for anything he might have missed on his first sweep.

Shrugging off the lack of useful vegetation he contemplated directions before turning south in the hopes of picking up some helpful mosses and shadow dwelling insects and small beasts. He had only managed a handful of steps before he realised that Cedric had opted to follow along behind him.

He briefly considered asking why, since he was sure the older teen had said he was decent at herbology and pretty good with care of magical creatures. So he didn’t think Cedric was sticking close to make the most out of Harry’s own skill with recognising and harvesting useful plants, or the same with beasts.

Glancing over his shoulder, Harry took in the others' thoughtful expression. “I doubt there’ll be another questing beast prowling around out here. It’s rare to see even one of them over a stretch of five generations...actually makes me wonder how they managed to track one down.”

“I didn’t think so either, I bumped into a boggart not long ago, but nothing else particularly aggressive.” Cedric replied, wand free hand moving to brush a low hanging branch out of the way.

Harry hummed softly at that. Honestly he doubted that was all there was to stumble across, the questing beast alone raised the danger level significantly and was very notably not a native resident of the forest, though they did tend to appear at random across the world, drawn to strife and betrayal.

Boggarts though could be found just about anywhere, so it wouldn’t surprise him if the one Cedric had encountered had actually been a native of the Forbidden Forest.

The sense of approaching rain was tickling up his spine, thick enough that he could taste it at the back of his tongue. Strong enough that he was almost surprised that Cedric couldn’t taste it too somehow, despite knowing that the sense came from his animagus side. One of the gifts that carried over regardless of what form he was in.

It was something that took a lot of getting used to, according to Sirius.

Padfoot the black hound, who hunted alongside the Reaper and could always, without fail, tell when a mortal soul was nearing its end.

Sirius who could feel the end of his best friend and his wife rapidly approaching every time he managed to visit, despite every twist and turn he had tried to slip into their defenses. 

It haunted him, Harry knew. Both because he had admitted it, but also because Harry could see it in his eyes when his godfather had talked quietly about the powers and abilities that could be shared across forms. He had wanted Harry to be as informed and prepared as possible for whatever his form was prior to his first transformation.

So rather than complain and make a big deal about the almost cloying awareness of approaching rain, he kept his thoughts to himself and shrugged it off.

It could always be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, decided to go with a different sort of task than the canon. Not to say they might not end up going for a swim in future, but it felt right to do something a little different.  
> As you can tell, I ended up splitting the second task in two parts (the second half coming next update due to my shit week interfering in my ability to sit at comp and write uninterrupted)  
> The idea was so that multiple aspects of their education could be actually tested instead of the wibbly wobbly race that most of the canon tournament felt like.
> 
> So, yeah, I hope you enjoyed this one, let me know what you think in the comment section, or feel free to join myself and a small army of geeks over at Metalduck Garden on Discord (link below) where we play games, geek out over just about everything and discuss each chapter and the story verse over all. Plus the little behind the scenes snippets I share from time to time.
> 
> See you all next week! *waves*


	26. A Certain Sort of Healing Serenity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the second task gets underway after a brief break and Harry decides to try his hand at something neat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and welcome back, it's Monday which means a new chapter.
> 
> Trying to balance research, actual writing and Cyberpunk has been interesting the last couple of days.  
> Thankfully I managed to get a good chunk done before the game went live and tried to swallow my life. XD

#### 12th February 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

They were met on the outskirts of the forest by a frazzled Professor Pomona Sprout, Headmaster Dumbledore, Ludo Bagman and Lord Crouch. The latter of whom had, according to Ron, been taking a lot of fire from the discovery that his son had in fact been alive all along.

There had apparently been calls for investigation and for him to step down from his position of Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Madam Bones had taken the time to confirm for Harry that while the man was discreetly under investigation, the Wizengamot had determined that he was not a danger to others at present and that pulling him from the Tournament and replacing him would do more harm to public perception than good.

She had looked less than pleased about the whole matter, but apparently until voting finished and was tallied on the new Minister, the British Wizengamot as a whole was calling the shots and she like all the other Department Heads was expected to honour and uphold their decisions.

Madam Bones had stood beside Lord Crouch while the group had questioned Harry about the Questing Beast, which apparently hadn’t been a planned addition to the task. She had seemed more intent on keeping an eye on Crouch’s behaviour and actions while he performed his duties than on adding any questions for Harry, aside from to ask whether he had been harmed and needed a Healer.

It had become readily apparent that none of the gathered had any knowledge of where the Beast had come from, though it had been suggested that it was possibly the result of whomever had charmed the Goblet of Fire into forcing Harry’s entry into the tournament to begin with.

Though they simultaneously admitted that theory might have been a long shot, given what they knew about Questing Beasts.

In the end they had opted to put the matter behind them in order to see to the second half of the task, and Harry and Cedric had been ushered to the champions pavilion in the arena for a light snack to help replenish their spent energy and to be looked over by Madam Pomfrey.

Which turned out to be a good thing, since apparently Viktor had run afoul of a Tebo while in the forest and had been lightly gored.

Though how someone could be _’lightly’_ gored, Harry had been uncertain.

Fleur it seemed, had gotten off as lightly as Cedric, only having bumped into a territorial Ashwinder which she had quickly frozen and a small group of Pixies which she had similarly frozen then stunned for good measure.

Idly, Harry had wondered if they weren’t the same Pixies that Gilderoy Lockhart had brought onto Hogwarts grounds during his tenure as Defense Professor.

They were escorted to the arena and Harry and Cedric both spent a moment while walking to peer around and wave back at the students that waved and shouted trying to get their attention.

In the Champion’s Pavilion Fleur and Viktor were already seated, talking quietly while they took from a platter of sandwiches that had apparently been brought over specifically for them. Harry idly recalled that several food stands had been set up around the arena for students to take their food and sweets from. 

An agreement that had come about in part to make sure potential buyers would walk by the two Weasley Wizard Weezer’s stands that were selling merchandise for the tournament and some of Fred and George’s specially crafted treats. 

So far the most popular items according to the twins were, the assortment of badges -- particularly the one that cycled from the Swedish Short-Snout in its natural state and its transformed duck shape -- which were pretty cheap so everyone could afford several that quickly found their way onto bags and robes. And the memory globes which each contained a memory of one champion match from the first task.

Harry had initially wondered about the point of having four separate globes when one crystal globe was sufficient for all four memories. George had explained that while they could have done so, by splitting them into multiple distinct parts made them a set that could be collected, which was what a lot of students had been doing with the small horde of badges that were on sale.

The young king had considered the possibility, had even had it in mind to a degree when the original idea to make merchandise for the Tournament both for PR purposes but to also make sure every participant went home with something to show for risking life and limb.

He hadn’t honestly considered _just_ how well received the whole idea had ended up being. He’d had to pop back to Skyfall specifically to pick up a small squad of house-elves to help with the whole production and retail process, something that had earned him some impressive thoughtfully narrowed side-eye from Hermione, even if she had kept her thoughts to herself for now.

Which honestly, had surprised Harry quite a bit until he found out that apparently Hermione had managed to spot one of them alone and had tried to give her a handkerchief only to be very politely pointed to Hildegara, who in turn had decided to show off her courting gifts.

As Harry understood things, Hermione was currently distracted learning about elf culture from Hildegara between jobs. 

Though Harry had no illusions as to the fact that a long talk would still be required before she either relaxed about the topic or took up arms all over again.

He didn’t know what it was that made him so avoidant of even the idea of confrontation with Hermione, he was more accepting of the minor squabbles he sometimes got into with Ron over this or that. Though most of those were about quidditch and schoolwork, so he rather doubted they could be counted on the same scale.

Frederick had suggested that it might stem from an internalised fear of somehow disappointing or otherwise driving away his first friends. Something he knew wouldn’t have been the end of the world since some people do just grow apart as their lives and particularly their interests take them in different directions.

His own study into psychology had told him as much.

Still, right now he was feeling rather grateful to a much newer set of friends, or at least friendly acquaintances as Fleur, Viktor and Cedric were largely focused on their own lunches and weren’t staring at him the way the adults had been. Though Cedric was still sneaking looks at him when he thought he wouldn’t notice.

Harry looked up as the pavilion curtains parted and Mr.Bagman stepped inside. “Alright Champions, if you’re all rested and finished with your lunch we’ll head into the arena now so we can introduce everyone to the stage for the second half of the task.”

Each of the teenagers regarded the other for a brief moment before they started rising to their feet, eager to be underway.

Almost in unison Harry and the other champions stepped through the wide opening of the pavilion and out into the grounds of the arena. The crowd of students and staff that had refilled the stands post lunch cheered at their appearance; scarves, flags and an assortment of noise makers being flailed about in the air.

The young king sought out Hermione and Ron in the stands almost immediately, giving them a smile and wave, which extended to Neville and Luna who happened to be sitting nearby.

The arena looked quite a bit different from the last time Harry had seen it.

The floor had been altered into a solid polished stone platform in the center of the ring which housed four rather complete looking brewing and preparation stations, including lattice racks beside each that contained one of each sort of cauldron or other such tools.

Around the outside of the raised platform, before the barrier that separated the stands from the arena floor sat a ring of tables that stretched around the entire arena floor. They were piled high with an assortment of ingredients and reagents from a multitude of regions. It all totalled, Harry knew, to more than a small fortune. 

Much, much more.

He wondered if the expenditure had been approved while the late Minister Fudge was still in office, or if someone hadn’t snuck the purchase through in the chaos that had come after.

It did make for a rather weighted show of wealth.

If a person understood what they were looking at and the fluctuating market -- and black market -- price of each item. Things that Harry knew from his studies and the regular reports that Goldhammer shared with him, since the goblins made it a point to know the worth of everything that might cross their path.

Too many years of being taken advantage of and short changed for their efforts.

Given the curious looks on the other three champions he doubted they actually understood the raw value they were currently sharing an arena with.

To one edge of the arena, a stone faced Professor Snape snapped his wand out in a quick little swirl and an illusionary image of the four teenaged champions swam into being, one bust representation hovering above one workstation each in a readily understandable show of assigned work area.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you all enjoyed our brief break and managed to pick up a little something at the food and merchandise stands because the second half of the task is about to begin!” Mr. Bagman announced as he made his way to the very centre of the raised platform in the middle of the arena. 

He made a gesture back at them and the four teens made their way forward, each of them moving up to their assigned workspaces. 

“Now, as you can see our wonderful champions have each been assigned a place to work where they’ll be hard at work proving their abilities with the complex art of potion crafting.” Bagman said, turning on the spot as he spoke to address the whole crowd. “For this half of the task, our champions must use all those wonderful ingredients they managed to find and harvest in the first half.”

He paused to gesture to the ring of ingredient laden tables. “This bounty you see ringing the arena is all up for use, they may all take freely from these tables to add to their concoctions. So long as they also use the ingredients they harvested themselves. Because you see in this half, every correctly prepared ingredient and every correctly brewed potion or paste will gain them points. But each failure and indeed each piece of viable ingredient left over after the time is up will cost them points.”

Harry cocked his head, thinking that over as he pulled his shrunken box of ingredients out of his pocket and set it to one side of his prep table, enlarged to its normal size.

“Each successful preparation step will gain them five points. Then again each successful brew turned over for judging will gain them twenty points. Our panel of potion master judges will review each concoction submitted to them and either award or remove points based on its quality and complexity. Which means a well brewed potion of an advanced or higher difficulty will be worth more points and may just be what it takes to secure top spot in this competition.”

Staring down at his box of ingredients Harry’s mind was already churning over possible uses. Most of the plants and small critters he had decided to harvest lent themselves to restoratives of one sort or another, though there were a couple that were key ingredients in sleeping potions.

Bagman swung around again, a broad grin on his face. “Now, that’s not to say our champions are limited to only one brew. In fact, they can create and submit as many as they can complete. Provided of course they keep in mind the few rules of this round. That means each champion has the possibility of submitting multiple works, each of which will earn or lose points for them.

“And remember, once the end of brewing time arrives, any incomplete concoctions will cost our champions a heft twenty points each. So the risk is just as high as the potential reward.” The Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports announced.

That, Harry decided, made things a touch more difficult.

They had to choose one or more suitably advanced brews, prepare all their individual components correctly, brew them to a satisfactory quality, and use all of the things they had harvested in the first half without waste.

Nevermind that some brews called for the leaf a plant but not the stalk. Or the wing or juice or some other part of the whole, but not the remainder of that whole plant, insect or mineral.

Quietly, at the back of his mind, Harry had a brief thought that the person who had concocted this second Tri-Wizard task was a bit of a dick.

He half tuned out the rest of Mr.Bagman’s speech to instead return to combing through the potions and salves he knew before coming to the conclusion that based on the ingredients he had harvested, he would be looking at at least three brews going simultaneously at a minimum.

Though even that was a bit of a stretch and would still leave him with one or two parts of his ingredients left over. 

Mr. Bagman gave them the order to begin and Harry immediately moved to the outside ring of tables and began to stroll around them, peering at the ingredients as his mind went to work inserting, replacing or removing potential ingredients from hypothetical concoctions.

Given the scarcity of some of the ingredients he wanted to avoid wasting anything if it could be avoided, the fact that it would cost him points only added fuel to the drive.

He had a vague back-of-the-mind sort of awareness of the goings on around the arena. He could hear Mr. Bagman introduced the four potion masters that had been brought in to judge and offer observations and explanations as things progressed. 

Probably for the best. Harry didn’t think most people would find watching others spend hours methodically preparing then brewing what-have-you particularly riveting.

But by the time Harry had made his second steady pace around the ingredient tables he had found himself with an idea.

Admittedly one he hadn’t been entirely certain would work, but an idea nonetheless.

He moved to collect the ingredients he was missing, carefully measuring and counting them out so he wouldn’t end up wasting anything. Harry floated the things he was picking up behind him, absently aware that each item was being noted and hypothesized about with first of the potion master's Bagman had cornered for commentary.

He had left his conjured case with the bits he had harvested in the first half open at his station and he could see out of the corner of his eye that they were currently stopped beside his work station and were pointing to this or that in the case.

He paid it little to no mind and instead kept at his own current task until he returned with his chosen bits and pieces whereupon he cleared his throat to gain their attention.

“Yes, King Harry, did you have a question?” Mr. Bagman asked, bright crowd-pleasing smile in place.

“A matter of ruling from the judges.” Harry stated as he set down the last of his ingredients in neat arrangements near his prep board. “As far as ingredient gathering is concerned, are we, the contestants permitted to utilise those we can derive from our own person?”

Both Mr. Bagman and the potion master both blinked at that, obviously taken aback by the query. The potion master -- Master Arkadius Pheely, Harry’s mind supplied, the other British potion master along with Snape -- recovered first.

“There is no rule for this task regarding the use of ingredients gained from a human donor, no.” The man stated, head cocking to one side. “Although certain arrangements would need to be made if you were seeking to use more _sensitive_ ingredients.”

Meaning semen or vaginal discharge which were sometimes used in fertility potions and tinctures that were used to treat certain injuries to the genitals. And in post-birth healing, which Harry knew from his lessons with Healer Graves was in itself an injury of sorts, especially during the first child's birth when the body hadn’t been trained to do what it needed to.

As much as it usually followed an instinctual proceeding, there were still things the body could get wrong. Tearing, prolapse and more. 

Rather hair raising stuff, Harry thought.

“In particular I’m asking in regards to the harvesting of a measure of blood from an animagus form.” Harry specified to get to the point, since he knew some cultures, or even people viewed an animagus in a rather particular fashion.

Both men blinked again, staring at Harry for a moment getting stuck on the knowledge that he was implying if not outright admitting to being an animagus.

Eventually they shook off their shock and Master Pheely gave a nod. “Given the nature of the animagus it would be rather contrary to allow participants to harvest from their human form but not their beast form. Do you require assistance?”

Giving it a moment's thought Harry eventually inclined his head. “That would be appreciated, my other form is rather large.”

“Very well, what needs to be harvested and what quantity?” The man asked, moving to the tool racks that sat to the side of the prep station.

“Blood, specifically fifty milliletres worth, stored in a crystal phial until needed.” Harry instructed then with a thought and a flex of magic he had lifted himself sufficiently into the air to transform.

He felt the tingle and stretch that was becoming more and more familiar as he transformed, something Sirius had told him several times would become so familiar he wouldn’t even register it anymore.

Long body stretched out above the arena, Harry ignored all the pointing and exclamations and instead focused on weaving himself into a lazy circle so he could lower himself in a spiral and get at least his arms down to Master Pheely so the man could bleed him.

And hopefully without sending any of the tables or his fellow contestants flying with his bulk.

He could just imagine Snape shouting point deductions while pinned to an ingredient table by Harry’s tail.

The dragon-king got himself in accessible range, holding out one arm to the rather stunned looking man and used his other to point to a section that had slightly softer scales that could be pierced. “ **Just here should be easiest for you.** ” He instructed.

The men both startled at the sound of his voice, though Harry really couldn’t blame them since it seemed to be the going reaction to finding out that he could still talk even as a beast.

Although Harry was rapidly learning what Britain classified as ‘Beast’ and what the rest of the world did was looking like very different things.

Bloodletting done and the small wound healed, Harry settled back into his human form and took the phial of blood from the older man with a quiet word of thanks before turning his attention to his ingredients. Each required rather exact preparation, more so than would normally be acceptable for the average brew.

A twitch of magic had several cauldrons flying from their place on the racks to their expected place on enchanted burners. Two pewter, one gold and one cast iron, each of which had a specific purpose.

He made quick work of filling the first three with the water they needed and set the temperature on their burners while he and several charmed tools went about slicing, dicing, mincing, grinding and otherwise rendered each item into its required form before taking a step back.

He absently noted that a different potion master had moved to spectate, making quick notes as she surveyed his work with each.

The young king turned his attention away from the woman and instead moved to gaze at each of his lit cauldron to gauge their readiness. Seeing that it was he flexed his magic again so the first few he would need were hovering in the air ready to be included into the bubbling liquid.

He had set up the cauldrons so that of the three that were currently lit the two that had the closest time synchronisation for stirring and ingredient addition time were side by side so he could work on them easier at the same time. The third had a more sedate stirring regiment which happened to fall into lulls in the other two, so he could alternate between them pretty decently.

Provided he had equated correctly for the effect the external ambient temperatures and wind -- slight as it was -- would have on the brewing process.

Harry set the first ingredients to slowly add themselves to the water of their respective cauldrons while he started stirring, one mixing rod in either hand. His left moved a silver-steel rod in spiralling motions, while his right moved a copper rod in a jagged zigzag pattern.

Absently he wondered if this was the magical equivalent of someone patting their head while rubbing their belly.

More and more he zoned out of the world around him as he worked, focused almost solely on his brews and the steadily climbing temperature he had been feeling the longer he stood over the boiling, steaming cauldrons.

He had noticed since he had attained his animagus form that he was more sensitive to heat while his native body temperature sat several degrees cooler than human normal. Which effectively meant he had to pay slightly closer attention to his own body during summers and winters than he had previously and that intense potion sessions, few as they had been since his having left the Dursleys, were more wearing on him than they had been previously.

At a small lull in the mixing and adding, Harry shucked his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, the top few buttons of his shirt quickly and efficiently having been undone so his neck and collarbone were free from the slightly stifling material. 

Down to more relaxed waistcoat and rolled sleeves Harry had leapt back into it.

He focused on his task, only vaguely aware of the questions he was occasionally asked and the answers he gave in response, more interested in timing his additions than on just about anything else. Each of the base potions he was crafting were considered to be advanced, his end product though, if he got it right and it worked like he hoped would be a masterclass in potioneering.

If he got it right.

There were so many little things that could go wrong, he knew.

Stir too little and the brews could clump up.

Stir too much and the ingredients could separate entirely.

Stir in the wrong pattern while infusing it with magic and the brew could fail to charge and render.

Too much of one thing or not enough would also affect the end outcome.

Just as using the wrong binder or trying to combine them at the wrong time.

Because in essence he had chosen to brew existing potions together and then add to that combined mixture to create something new.

Something the world needed.

Or at least a few quiet people in it.

To one side he absently noted Mr. Bagman announced that there was only a half hour left for them to complete their brews.

He had been half aware of the other champions submitting this or that brew of their own as they completed them over the last few hours, absently heard points being awarded or subtracted as they were judged. He pushed it away, kept the whole of his attention focused on his task and kept his sweat from dripping into the mix and potentially ruining it.

Twenty minutes left and he had spelled the first three cauldrons to levitate around the fourth which he negligently transfigured from cast iron into diamond and had begun the process of adding the three into it at a steady rate he fought to keep even.

Neither one could overpower the other two or the blending would fall apart and the entire brewing session would be ruined.

While his magic kept them pouring in thick steady streams from their cauldrons Harry had begun to manually add in powdered unicorn horn which would coax the three mixtures to coexist and blend in harmony rather than trying to collapse into their base parts. At the same time it would heighten the effects of the brew and add its own element to the finished product.

Once all three were added successfully he had a brief window of mellow figure eight stirring before he carefully started to add in the last of the ingredients bit by bit. He watched for each expected shift of colour, counted each stir and swirl and sparkle.

Finally the concoction was a clear smooth consistency with a rainbow of sparkles that danced around each other in the air. Harry killed the burner and carefully poured a dose into a crystal potion phial before he looked up and immediately found himself the focus of several piercing gazes.

Harry licked his dry lips and summoned a fresh kerchief to pat the sweat from his face and neck. “Potions completed.” He announced, as he set the finish product on a conjured tray beside the three base potions.

He carefully slid the tray closer to the group and conjured a stool to heave himself onto.

The potion mistress that had been watching his preparation of the ingredients hummed and reached forward to pick up one of the phials and held it up to the light of the sun. “Steady cobalt blue, gentle bubbles…” She noted before bringing it down under her nose and unstoppered it momentarily. “...and a subtle scent of honey and warm sand. By all evidence a perfect Everlasting Elixir.”

She passed it along to the others who studied it in turn before giving a nod, though Harry noted that Snape's seemed a little grudging and his frown was quite deep, though the rest of his expression was closed off.

The next familiar potion was picked up and subsequently examined, turned this way and that as they each tried to find flaws.

“Flawless Draught of Peace.” Potion Master Pheely announced eventually, reclaiming it and setting it down on the tray again.

“And I know that other one looks like a masterful recreation of Dr. Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction.” The second foreign potion master announced. “I’ve crafted it enough times to know.”

“Which leaves...this.” Snape intoned slowly, reaching out to rest a bony potion stained finger next to the final clear and sparkling potion. “What, pray tell, is this supposed to be?”

From his spot on his stool Harry cocked his head to one side, turning thoughtful. “I think I’ll call it the Potion of Healing Serenity.”

“What?”

It always amazed Harry -- in a quiet way that he had no intention of admitting to -- just how his former potion professor could infuse a single word with a scowl even when his face remained as blank as a stone.

“I thought given the abundance of rare ingredients it would be interesting to create something new. So, with the combination of the Draught and the Unction with the Everlasting Elixir to make the effects of the potion more permanent in nature, plus the last ingredients to bind and add the final layer to the mix, I’ve got the Potion of Healing Serenity which should heal both body and mind simultaneously and bestow a lingering sense of peace in the patient it’s prescribed to.” Harry explained, gesturing to each of the individual potions that had gone into the end product.

Three of the four potion masters glanced at each other while Snape kept his black eyes locked on the teen.

“You expect us to believe you crafted a new potion in the space of three hours?” Snape asked, his voice a low drawling rumble. “And if so, that we judge a potion we have no ready means to evaluate at present?”

Harry, exhausted from the brewing and wishing for nothing more than to curl up in a comfortable spot for a nap sighed. “Well, no one ever accused me of making your life easier, Master Snape.”

Which really, might have been the most honest thing Harry had said in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think?
> 
> I know a few of you were interested in seeing how this potion segment worked out on page, so hopefully it didn't disappoint any of you.
> 
> Also, I seem to have developed a habit of finishing chapters on interesting lines. Either thoughtful, intense in feeling or just kinda humorous.
> 
> Anyway, ta-ta until comments/discord (link down below), I'll be chillin' in Night City....or blowing it up, whichever.


	27. Honours Upon Honours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius takes his first sip of comfort and then he and Harry take a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, happy Monday.
> 
> Just a small offering this week unfortunately. RL obligations have kinda left me a bloody mess on the floor.  
> But I'll manage, this was more of a setup chapter than an action/info heavy one. Which helped a little.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the expansion on Harry's wonder potion and the world lore. 
> 
> (ps, feel free to ignore the end notes, it's mostly my morose ramblings)

#### 14th February 1995 - King Harry’s Office, Volstar Ministry of Magic, Skyfall

If he were asked to describe what he had been feeling of late, Sirius reckoned he had a healthy selection of words to choose from.

Determination, curiosity, resignation, excitement, exhaustion, contentment, pride, worry, annoyance, confusion.

It seemed each day was a riot of shifting emotions where there used to only be room for terror and despair.

He thought it strange in its own way, just how much could change in the space of a year.

Less than a year, really. Though that milestone was just a few short months away.

A milestone just about everyone in Skyfall was anticipating with the same kind of heady excitement he felt when he thought on it. The excited grins and sparkling eyes that sprung up whenever the topic popped up in conversation did wonders to see him through some of his lower moods.

The source of the occasional bout of disappointed moping on his part, it had been something he had half hoped, half expected would disappear with the escape to Volstar.

Either that or in all the busywork the move had created for everyone.

But Harry and Frederick both had taken to reminding him that there was no magical instant cure for years of sustained mental and emotional trauma. Even in a world with flying horses, wands and legends of forces of nature personified.

Or potions.

Cheering charms, the draught of peace, calming draughts, and the like bestowed temporary relief from the likes of anxiety and depression. But they didn’t heal the underlying cause of those feelings.

Dr. Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction could heal some mental scarring, Sirius knew, enough at least to diminish the risk of fresh scarring from becoming too deeply entrenched to remedy. But it had limits, as most solutions did, needing to be taken while the damage was still fresh or at least recent.

It lightened the weight of the trauma, of the memories and forced the mind to process that much lightened event so it could not hook deep into the subconscious and leave its ugly mark.

But old, deeply ingrained pain was too heavy for the unction to lift and ease.

Which left Harry’s new potion.

It had been in testing just about all the previous day after the Tri-Wizard judges had decided they couldn’t judge it while it was an ‘unknown substance’ and had instead stuck to evaluating his godson's prep skills and the other finished brews he had bottled samples of for judging.

Sirius couldn’t help but think on how much Harry had looked like his mother while he was brewing. Honestly he wasn’t entirely sure how much of what he and thousands of others had watched came down to the mental boost of the ritual, and how much was Lily’s prodigious potion talent peeking through.

Not that he thought it really mattered, but he liked to think at least a little of it came from Lily.

Especially when he happened to be sitting, staring down at his potion laced tea.

His first dose as it were, since the Healing Serenity had been cleared for human consumption the day before.

Well aware of his own faults and the lingering whispers in the back of his mind, and the nightmares that still choked him awake while covered in cold sweat. After months of therapy with the knowledge that he would be looking at years more to safely process it all, he could sit back and look at himself and the things he had been through and admit he needed the help.

Just how much, he preferred to keep to himself.

He didn’t have much pride left and what little he had was almost solely reserved for Harry, but he did have enough to want to keep just how damaged he was from becoming gossip fodder.

Not that that was much of an issue, the folks that had settled and gotten to work on building Skyfall with him and Harry had so far all shown themselves to be of a decent sort.

Still…

Shaking off the thought he focused back on the cup warming his hands and resolutely raised it to sniff at the liquid.

There was the familiar scent of earl grey that had become their morning tea beverage of choice, but underneath it there were other scents that he knew came from the potion. Smells that invoked a sense-memory of comfort.

Old books and wool that was both soft and slightly scratchy.

Green growing things and rich loamy earth.

Sweet chocolate and hints of whiskey.

The fabric softener Lily had used of all Harry’s baby blankets and the bundles of flowers that even while in hiding James had kept sneaking off to pick or buy so his vaguely terrifying lady wife would always be surrounded by beautiful things.

Half forgotten scents that made something in him unwind, letting him know it had been tense to begin with.

The strength of it was less concentrated than it had been straight from the bottle, softened and diluted by the tea but still there underneath. But like the Amortentia Potion’s scents drew to mind association of love or at least deep infatuation, Harry’s Potion of Healing Serenity invoked comfort and safety.

Two things in short supply for those that had been hurt enough to require the powerful brew.

Taking a moment longer to breath in the aromatic steam, Sirius eventually brought it to his lips and took a careful sip, then another.

And then another until his cup was surprisingly empty and his storm gray eyes were closed while he basked in the warm feeling of peace that had spread through him.

He realised he must have been drifting in that sense of peace for quite a while because when he had opened his eyes to share the experience with Moony who had agreed to sit with him while Harry ran about doing some last errands and check-ins, he found that Harry had returned and was sitting behind his desk like normal and that there rest of the group that would be acting as Harry’s entourage for the trip to Japan were seated or standing here and there about the room, chatting quietly.

Harry looked up from his work and fixed Sirius with a calm expression. “How do you feel?” He asked quietly.

“Good...like I’ve been dozing in the sun on a good day.” He replied and licked his lips to chase the last of the surprising smokey-sweet flavour.

“No disorientation or nausea?” Harry asked, pulling a notebook towards him to make notes.

“No, none. I can’t even recall ever feeling this centered or peaceful.” He admitted and glanced down at his hands, absently noting the lack of minute tremors that had plagued him since his time in Azkaban where he had started shaking from cold or terror and never quite stopped. “I’m steady.”

Harry followed his line of sight and took in the way his hands remained perfectly in place with nary a tremble or twitch. “In more than one way. That’s good.”

Remus edged his way closer to his childhood friend and leaned a hip against the edge of Harry’s desk so he could study the other man intently. “Your eyes are clearer, always before there was a hint, a touch of mania. We shrugged it off as a side effect of the old Black Madness...but it’s gone.” He whispered, eyes having gone a touch wide as he processed what he was seeing.

“The scars are gone too.” Sirius told them, holding his hands a little higher to illustrate. “My hands were covered in them from tearing at my cell, but they’re gone.”

Harry cocked his head to one side while he considered that before he nodded his head to the door that led off to his private suite. “Use my bathroom, check out your other scars and see if they’re either gone or faded.”

“Right, yeah, back in a moment.” The older animagus muttered as he rose to his feet to follow the suggestion.

“He’s standing taller, straighter and less hunched in on himself.” Harry noted to Remus as he watched his godfather move.

“I noticed that too.” The older man agreed then cast a glance at Sirius’ empty teacup. “For only the first dose that’s quite a lot of change.”

Harry nodded slowly. “It’s easy to notice the lack of something when you’re so used to always seeing it. With the Serenity the effects are fairly immediate, most people would only need the one dose. It’s only the fact that he needs to heal years worth of sustained damage that make him need more than that.” He explained, adding another note to his list of observations.

“So if I took it?”

The boy king looked up from his writing and gave his former teacher the entirety of his attention. “To put it plainly you would likely require a slightly longer regiment than Sirius, five or six doses. Based on the damage from Moony, from the Wolfsbane that your normal healing brews couldn’t fix. Stress and emotional trauma add on to that too.”

“Right.” Remus muttered, gaze dropping to stare down at his own scarred hands. “It would be expensive too, phoenix tear and bada-horangi blood are hard to come by not to mention all the other ingredients.”

“Typically yes, but you wouldn’t be paying anything for your doses.” Harry told him and quickly held up a hand to forestall an argument. “That’s not to say it would be technically free or charity. You’d be the first werewolf to take the potion, that means I’ll need you to keep a comprehensive journal that starts before the first dose and continues for several months after the last one. You would need to reflect on things that you will initially want to shy away from.”

Seeing the confusion on the others' faces Harry leaned forward and let his arms cross on the desk in front of him.

“The day you were infected with lycanthropy is a deeply traumatic memory, you’ll need to reflect and give word in detail how you feel when you think about it both as a whole and in parts. The pain, fear, the diagnosis afterward and your own thoughts and feelings about your parents reactions. Your memories being a child that was different from others, growing up, your time at Hogwarts, the war. Even my parents' deaths and the time after.”

Remus shifted in his chair, licking his lips in a clear show of unease. “I…”

“It will get easier as you take each dose. The potion will be healing the scars from both the events themselves but also the mental and emotional impact they had.” Harry offered. “It won’t erase that the events that caused them happened and you’ll need to speak to a therapist for a while to make sure you learn how to properly process those sorts of events so you don’t slowly relapse one day.”

“Is that really likely?” Remus asked, brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“Not for most things, but the more complex, life altering traumas it’s a possibility. You need to teach yourself and by extension your subconscious how to process and let go of those underlying pain and fear associations. The longer you put it off and try to ignore it, the deeper you let them take root.” Harry explained, his tone calm and even.

The werewolf nodded, eyes focused on the scarred hands folded in his lap. “Can I think about it?” He asked quietly.

“Of course, it won’t be an option until after Sirius has finished his own course, which won’t be for another couple of weeks since it’s a once a week treatment.” Harry told him, his own arms unfolding as he leaned back and reached for his quill. “So not until after we get back from Japan at least.”

Remus inclined his head slightly, expression locked into that thoughtful frown as he considered the costs and the potential benefits. 

Movement behind him brought Sirius back into the office proper and he watched his old friend sink back into his seat.

“All the light ones are gone, the heavier ones are smaller or lighter. You were right.” The animagus announced, gray eyes focused on his godson.

“Magical or mundane scars?”

“A few of each.” Sirius shrugged.

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “Does that mean you finally got rid of that one you had on your thigh from when Sarah Taffey tried to hex your bollocks off when she caught you snogging Millidere Morden behind the courtyard statue in sixth year?” He queried, expression shifting into something much more amused.

Casting a look from the werewolf to Harry and back, Sirius scrunched his nose up at the other. “Yes.”

Harry sighed and shook his head slightly. “I’m just going to focus on the scar thing, I think.”

“Probably for the best.” Moony agreed with a small grin.

“Oi, you’re the one that brought it up.” Sirius grumbled.

The werewolf’s grin widened and his eyes sparkled merrily. “Just to watch you squirm.”

“Wanker.”

“Tosspot.”

Sighing again at the two old friends and contemplated trying to steer the conversation back on point for a second time only to pause when the clock on his desk chimed and a flock of tiny enchanted owls flew out of it and around it before they flew their way back into their clock nest. 

Twelve owls for twelve o’clock.

“Time for us to head out to the field so we’re ready for the portkeys.” He announced and pushed to his feet. He tugged at his waistcoat to straighten it and patted down his pockets to double check the shrunken luggage that he planned to carry with him while Hildegara handled the rest.

It was only a small group going, just Harry, Sirius and Frederick being escorted by Hildegara -- who in fact informed Harry that she would be accompanying him -- and a few other elves and a squad of goblin warriors hand picked by Ruknukle and of course including the taciturn goblin himself.

While there Harry would have a few business items to take care of, like formalising a peace agreement and a trade agreement that was rather happily beneficial to both nations. It also helped that both sides held the belief that traditions should be respected and honoured where possible but that progress was of equal importance.

Aside from that, Harry had been promised access to the Imperial Library, Gardens and the nations top magical-medical researchers.

In exchange Harry would share knowledge including his most recent inventions and advances. He would still hold the patent of course, but certain individuals would be licensed to study them and in limited cases recreate them without having to pay Harry -- or Volstar by extension -- a fee or a percentage of retail. 

Though it hadn’t come up at the time the original dialogue had taken place in regard to that exchange, Harry already had plans to allow the Emperor's chief Healer the license to test and recreate the Healing Serenity since he knew it would likely be asked about when they sat down for discussion and it would help improve relations a step further if he made what was one of the most powerful healing potions in the world available to the imperial household.

That had been an interesting revelation, finding out that the imperial throne passed down the magical side of certain bloodlines. The Emperor -- or Empress -- themselves always being magical and their spouse always mundane so as to create a harmonious balance between the two sides of society and to ensure both sides were equally accepted and spoken for when important matters of state needed discussing.

Harry had supposed that was where the old legend came from, that the first Emperor was born of the gods to help guide and govern man.

The tie to ‘other’ lingering in legend, just like it had done across Europe.

The trip out to the port zone was largely uneventful, aside from Remus double checking this or that. Even though he still had access to Harry at a moment's thought via the crown-earring connection, he still liked to cover most conversations in person where possible.

And he worried, near constantly.

Which in this case was a bit fair, Harry reckoned, since Japan had just a month prior felt the wrath of a terrible earthquake that had caused horrible devastation and loss of life.

But they reached the large stretch of ground which had recently been rendered permanent via the placement of patterned paving and took their places. Each of them held an intricately folded paper dragon that had been turned into a portkey. 

Unlike the debacle with the British Ministry, the Japanese one had paid close attention to the number of people Harry would be bringing along with him and had properly supplied each of them with a personal portkey to remove any awkwardness.

They had also been timed to ensure that a small group of Harry’s guards would be ported across first so they could scope out the area and take up defensive positions before Harry and the rest of the group would be ported across.

It was, technically speaking, a small consideration. But it was nonetheless one that both Harry and his guard had appreciated, it showed a level of thoughtfulness regarding Harry’s comfort and general safety. Something that had been in short supply where his own birth nation was concerned.

Harry noted the moment the advanced guard were whirled away and turned his attention to Remus who was standing to one side to see them off. “Remember that Bill’s staying to help out around the office, so if we get another reply back from Egypt, go over it with him in case there’s some cultural context or niceties that need observing. I don’t want us to accidentally upset anyone and have those doors close on us.”

“I will, Harry, don’t worry.” The older man assured him with a smile.

Alright, maybe Remus wasn’t the only one that worried.

He felt a small pulse from the origami dragon in his hand and had a moment to appreciate the fact that whoever had charmed it had also included a small warning to let the user know that it was about to trigger.

He had seen the small additional layer when he had checked over the portkeys upon arrival to double check that they all went to the correct place, but it hadn’t clicked at the time just what it was meant to do in practice.

The young king had enough time to give Remus a nod of farewell before the world twisted around him, leaving him with a somewhat familiar sensation of both rushing and warping.

When the world righted again Harry was standing in the center of his small group in a carefully selected section of what he had been informed in letter was the Imperial Gardens.

The portkeys, having served their purpose and no longer needed hissed and turned to ash that was quickly blown away by the gentle breeze.

At strategic points around the area, oni guards had been positioned to keep the peace, much the same way that Harry’s goblin guards were. Harry also spotted a few kyuubi slotted in here and there for added measure.

Both were sapient magical races native to Japan, much like the goblins and elves -- and many more -- were to Europe. The oni sharing a similar cultural standing to the goblins, though the kyuubi had no immediate parallel, they were intensely powerful magical beings that had a natural lifespan that numbered in the thousands of years and were seen as both incredibly wise and mercurial as a result.

They were also natural shape shifters like the human metamorphmagus, which Harry personally thought was rather interesting.

Positioned in front of Harry’s group, though a respectful distance stood a group of people he knew to be the Imperial family, the Japanese Prime Minister, the Japanese Minister for Magic and the chief of security for the Imperial family.

Seeing that Harry’s focus had settled on them and was therefore ready to begin formalities Emperor Akihito took a couple steps forward and offered Harry a shallow bow. 

Deep enough to denote respect but not so much that he announced Harry of a higher social rank than himself, which wouldn’t have been true. He was offering Harry a position of equality, despite the younger leader only recently having come into power. Behind him the rest of the group had followed the Emperor into their own bows of greeting though deeper to denote their own positions as lower than Harry’s -- and thus the Emperors own -- in terms of social and political status.

Taking a few steps to put himself ahead of the rest of his entourage and meet his older counterpart and offered his own bow in return, making it a little deeper than the older man's own in deference to his greater experiences and seniority.

When they straightened Emperor Akihito took another step forward to close the distance and offered his hand for Harry to shake in the western custom of greeting. “Welcome to our lands, King Harry of Volstar. We hope your stay with us will be as peaceful as it is enlightening.”

“Thank you. We’re honoured by the courtesy you have shown us.” Harry replied, stepping forward to close the distance and shake the older leader's hand.

They each took turns quietly introducing their respective groups before they were led on a tour of the grounds which was apparently closed to the public on Tuesdays under the excuse of maintenance. Though in actuality that day was set aside for the use of the magical populace and for the Imperial family themselves should the mood strike.

The conversation was largely light, discussing recent events and construction -- or reconstruction post earthquake -- and plans for other research going forward.

It struck Harry again, how much the other was treating him as an equal. He didn’t try to talk down to Harry or skirt around topics as if Harry wouldn’t understand them. It was so different from the few other meetings he had had with other leaders of government that Harry had more than once wondered what made the difference. If it was just a personal and political choice, how all world leaders were treated.

Or, if it was specific to Harry in some way, because of Harry in some way.

He had mentioned his animagus form in his original letters when he was requesting access to their libraries so he could learn more about eastern dragons, and he knew that most Asian nations revered their dragons to a certain extent but he wasn’t sure that was it.

Eventually both groups went their separate ways, the Emperor onto other business and his family and staff to their tasks for the day. And Harry and company showed to their suites -- which Harry noted was rather close to the Imperial families own -- to rest before dinner.

Safely enclosed in his suite, Harry swept over it curiously, intent on checking for any attempts to spy or otherwise invade his privacy and was both surprised and pleased to find nothing but a wellness charm bound to the room which would notify a receiver elsewhere in the palace that someone inside was in poor health.

It was very discreet but not hidden which helped him come to the conclusion that it was there as a safety feature rather than an attempt to gather personal information for less than kind intentions.

Frederick had agreed, informing him that it was fairly standard practice for the charms to be placed in the residences of leaders while in office. The chief physician having the other end to ensure quick response in case of sudden illness or even assassination attempts.

Harry had been insured that similar measures would be put into place when his own palace was constructed.

Which, really, was the most anyone had said about the future royal palace for Volstar in several months.

Apparently everyone had gotten used to the idea that Harry was in fact truly serious about making sure all the other buildings he considered important were completed before anyone even thought about working on something as time consuming as a palace.

Though they would be starting work on the Great Library in the next week.

That was one project that Harry was more than eager to see underway and completed.

Hermione must be so proud, Harry reckoned.

He’d gone and turned into a bookworm just like her.

Poor Ron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, Harry Potter, boy wonder has made his first steps into Japan, a magical nation that prides itself on its medical/healing research and capabilities.
> 
> Though on more sombre note, the earthquake mentioned in the chapter is one that actually happened in RL, the Great Hanshin earthquake (measuring at 6.9m) that resulted in the deaths of nearly seven thousand people and leaving hundreds of thousands homeless. It's one of several such events that have necessitated that Japanese engineers set the gold standard for earthquake early warning and structural advancements. And to continually push for greater innovations to prevent similar tragedies from happening in the future.  
> It's the kind of mentality that I've been developing for my verse's Harry, to learn from the bad things no matter how painful to avoid history repeating itself, where possible.
> 
> And on a lighter note the disaster also a massive response from people willing and ready to volunteer their assistance to aid the victims of the tragedy, literally more than a million people wanted to help, which is inspiring AF.
> 
> Given Volstar's own volcanic activity I thought (after a fair bit of deliberation) that it would a valuable learning experience for Harry, both as a leader actively building his country and as a person.
> 
> And on a personal note I still remember sitting with one of my few friends at the time on my birthday trying to cheer her up but not entirely understanding the why's of why she was sad except that her dad worked in Japan and he wasn't coming home anymore. So, it kind of felt wrong to ignore the event or pretend it didn't happen. And I know widespread loss like this (or any lose of life really) is a hard topic to think about. It's one of the reasons we dive into fandoms and games and whatever, for the escapism that removes us from the hard things.
> 
> I don't know, I'm rambling pretty badly. I realised the dates when I was writing and I've been on a morose/introspective bend for the last few days.  
> So, sorry if I've upset or offended anyone with the reference. I generally try to avoid doing that.  
> I'm going to go drown myself in happy things for a bit, I'll see you guys next week, hopefully with a chunkier chapter.


	28. Joyous Yuletide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short step back into the recent past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, my Lovelies.
> 
> Please take this, my gift to you. A little spot of joy, wherever you might be.

#### 22nd December 1994 - King Harry’s Office, Skyfall, Volstar

It had been a little odd, waking up to the scent of evergreen in the air.

He had known that he should expect it and had even approved the festivities, but there was something about scenting winter evergreens in a place that barely _had_ a winter to speak of that registered as a bit odd.

Harry had woken early again, as had become a well cemented habit, but even still he could hear the hustle and bustle of activity outside.

If he were being entirely truthful he could admit to being rather excited about the prospect of experiencing Yule. The proper traditional form that the wixen of Europe observed.

He had the Yule Ball, that would be hosted at Hogwarts thanks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which was a fairly old tradition. But he wanted to experience the twelve days of celebration, the thanks-giving rituals and the burning of the Yule log. He wanted to try spiced cider and wassail, to play games with his new neighbours and welcome the sun with a smile and songs sung merrily.

The young king swung back his blankets and pulled himself out of bed and into his small ensuite to take care of his morning ablutions.

He returned to find Hildegara practically dancing about his suite, attired in a new red and silver dress that was her yule uniform and had a laurel resting on her head.

“You’re in a cheerful mood.” He observed while moving to take a seat at his table, where breakfast had already been laid out for him.

“Joyous Yuletide to you Master Harry!” She chirped, smiling brightly as she turned to face him, morning tasks already taken care of.

“Happy Yule, Hildegara.” He replied with an equally bright smile before getting stuck into his breakfast.

He listened to her excitedly gush over the bits and pieces the elves were doing to the festivities. It was her first festival since her handfasting to her mate, Lysander. The delicately woven necklace she wore as proof of that pledge bouncing a little as she did and it only made Harry smile wider.

Breakfast done with and dishes cleared Harry slipped on his green and gold attire for the day before heading out to check his desk for anything that may have come in to be dealt with overnight, then finding it blissfully empty of new correspondence, made his way out of the Ministry building and out to the city centre.

There were wreaths and garlands hanging from buildings. Harry could spot holly, mistletoe and ivy interspersed with myrica, cedar and pine branches. There were small bundles of blessed thistle, sage and helleborus tucked here and there and ribbons in shining colours draped from here and there.

There was importance, Harry had known, in both the colours and the plants.

Red for the waning Holly King, green for the waxing Oak King.

White for purity and hope.

And silver and gold for the Moon and Sun.

The turn of seasons and wish for brighter futures.

A ritual of symbolism that had been carried through millennia through families and communities.

And something he would be able to share now, with Sirius and Remus.

Bill had headed out the previous day to rejoin his parents at the Burrow for their own yuletide celebrations and rituals, though he would be back on christmas day so they could make their last preparations for the Yule Ball and pop over to Hogwarts together.

Ambling out to one of the large open spaces that stretched between the first and second ring where they had laid out neatly patterned cobble to make a shared festival space, Harry spotted the wealth of tables and benches that had been set out with candles and garlands. There were gold plates and silver utensils lining the tables and crystal goblets that sparkled in the morning sun that would glimmer even brighter when the candles were lit.

Golden candles that would burn slowly once lit during the ritual and would continue to burn the full twelve days of yule.

Here were the most of their festivities would be centralised the air was thick with the smell of evergreen, sweet spices and the wassail that had soaked into the yule log -- a monstrously large oak trunk that the goblins had supplied -- and the scent of ginger and berries.

On either side there were massive barrels filled with mead, ale, whiskey and of course the wassail. Interspersed between those were spits that were already alight and slowly cooking whole pig, lamb and large hunks of beef, all of which had been liberally anointed in oils and herbs.

There were stone ovens that had been built dotting the area with festivals like this in mind that would bake fresh loaves and cakes and cook-fires for roasting nuts and stewing berries and vegetables.

Here as well there were ribbons and green boughs decorating the area.

There were elves dancing about each other as they saw to the food their community would feast upon over the next twelve days and goblins were marching back and forth checking over the casks and barrels.

Harry could see Madam Hubbard draping more greenery about further ahead, while her fellow greensmen carefully set aside crates of fruits and vegetables for use.

As the oldest female of their community -- something that had shocked Harry to learn, since he didn’t think she looked any older than Professor McGonagall -- Madam Hubbard would be taking part in the rituals.

She would stand for the Great Mother, the ‘feminine’ forces of nature. Plasma, water, darkness and earth and everything those elements represented. The enduring forces that offered succour to the weary and nourished life.

Harry as the most powerful male in their community would stand for the Star Child, sun god and protective light. He would represent the ‘masculine’ forces of nature. Metal, air, light and fire and the things those elements stood for. The guiding light, the warm welcome and cleansing purity, paving the way for the Great Mother to sow her wonder into the world.

He was, he found, rather nervous at the prospect, though realistically speaking his own parts in the ritual were relatively simple.

It was his power that would light the candles and the bonfires. That would set the wassail soak yule log ablaze and keep it burning for the full twelve days of the festival.

Harry watched from his spot as a couple of the goblins went up and down the tables sprinkling rubies, garnets, emeralds, diamonds and bloodstones about the garlands. A sparkling representation of their own ties to the earth and the shifting seasons.

It struck Harry then, more than it had done over the past few months just how free and together their slowly growing community was. Just watching everyone move about making preparations to eat, drink and celebrate together.

Which was how Sirius and Remus found him when they wondered out, teary eyed and brightly smiling.

He had run away from the Dursleys.

From bitterness and intolerance, from hate and resentment.

He had run away looking for safety and quiet.

They had built a home.

And it was beautiful.

Harry moved from hug to hug, echoed back merrily shouted well wishes.

He danced with elves and sang with goblins.

And he was Home.

Harry Potter was finally **Home**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seasons greetings, dear readers.
> 
> I wish you joy and love. Safety and Home.
> 
> May you be merry and safe, well fed and in good health.
> 
> (PS. Should still have the normal chapter for you on Monday, this is just a bonus for you all ;) )


	29. Audits, Plans and Audacity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first visit to Japan is drawing to a close while the world beyond the palace walls continues to spin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, happy Monday.
> 
> A largely thoughtful chapter this time before we leap back to Volstar for the commencement of some pretty spectacular expansion.  
> Tried to fill in some gaps in the 'common' knowledge of background events and gave Harry a bit of time to process recent events.
> 
> Hopefully it's not boring for you.  
> Onward!

#### 27th February 1995 - Imperial Palace, Tokyo, Japan

The first dinner they shared had been a rather formal -- if not exactly tense -- affair.

Conversation had been a little stilted and had stuck to largely unimportant topics in the grand scheme of things. Making tentative tours of the magical schools and hospitals Japan had to offer and receiving advice regarding researchers that may have information that would be beneficial to Harry’s various fields of study.

The second and third had been just as stuffy, but somewhere along the line the tension drained away.

They didn’t speak like old friends, that sort of rapport took years and many shared experiences to build. They did however settle well into the sort of easy dialogue that could develop between like minded business partners.

Harry would bow to Akihito’s accumulated wealth of experience.

Akihito would bow to Harry’s revolutionary displays of ingenuity.

It allowed them to speak on something closer to common ground and went a long way to helping them move past a lot of largely useless formalities. As such it only took a week to properly iron out and sign on peace and trade agreements that -- barring any unusual circumstances -- would last for years.

Possibly centuries.

Harry had sat down with the imperial healer and chief potioneer for the imperial family and even a woman whose sole job happened to be making sure the healer and potioneers stocks were supplied well with everything needed to perform their jobs.

He first went through each of the base potions, their ingredients and Golpalott’s Third Law -- which apparently had a Japanese equivalent of a different name -- before he demonstrated the creation of each from start to finish on request.

Most of the ingredients were Europe native, so there had been some curiosity over whether he did anything different in the preparation or general handling that might affect the overall outcome of a potion.

They had also gotten to observe -- very politely -- and question Sirius when he was taking his doses.

The same Sirius who had been at first quite flabbergasted to be on the receiving end of the same quiet respect they seemed to give everyone. 

He did slowly grow accustomed to it, and to reciprocating it.

During the first few sessions the imperial healer had taken an interest in the case of Sirius Black after he learned about the extent of trauma the Healing Serenity was helping to heal. He had -- with permission -- performed his own test on Sirius and had determined that his recovery had been good, but it could be better.

He had gone on to suggest and then instruct both Sirius and Harry in a number of treatments he and his ancestors had developed over the years to treat emotional and mental trauma. And ways of treating malnourishment and muscle atrophy.

They had, they learned, been developed as a countermeasure in the event of people being trapped under collapsed buildings after intense earthquakes. Something that was a real risk in Japan because of its heavy earthquake activity.

Volstar had its own share of earthquakes thanks to the volcanic activity on or around the island, however so far the few quakes they had experienced -- though exciting since the British Isles weren’t particularly familiar with the phenomenon -- were rather benign. 

Some rumbling and a bit of rattling of windows and things on shelves had been the worst of it. They had remedied it with sticking runes on shelves and other furniture that would keep themselves and items resting on them in place unless there was intent to remove or otherwise move the item or items from their resting place. 

Intent that a natural force such as an earthquake or typhoon could not create.

That and the runic and enchanted reinforcements spelled onto each building piece that would allow them to maintain their shape but rock slightly if the force was strong enough.

In essence to ensure they would bend so they didn’t break under the strain.

It was unfortunately something that was next to impossible for the Japanese community to replicate country wide like it was -- or rather would be -- in Volstar, since they had shared such tight space with their mundane counterparts. It made it that much easier for someone to notice that something wasn’t adding up to expected outcomes.

And the technological advancements of the mundane side meant it was just as hard, if not harder to cover up incidents of magic use in shared or mundane dominated spaces.

Instead they relied on their covert forces, the Mahou Ayatsuru, the Japanese equivalent to the Unspeakables, to slip around unnoticed and handle leaks where possible and bolster the nations defenses where possible.

But their greater experience meant they had spent much longer experimenting on ways that could either bolster their disaster prevention or their responses. Since Volstar didn’t as yet have to worry as much about the former, it meant Harry could focus on the things they had learned to increase recovery.

Injuries and trauma, both physical and mental.

It had taken all of two days for Akahito and his staff to notice just how fast Harry was absorbing the information they helped provide him for study, between shared dinners and polite check-ins to see how he was getting on.

After a few very polite but deeply incredulous tests to make sure he actually was properly taking on all the information he was being given Akahito assigned a small group of assistants to bring Harry a wide assortment of material and clear away anything he had finished with.

Rather suddenly, the signed promise that Harry would come to Japan’s aid if they found themselves in need of help had much more weight to it.

Originally, Harry knew it had been accepted easily enough because most magically advanced countries had their own way of discretely gaining an estimate of an individuals own magical power based on ambient spillover. 

So he was aware that the reason that small section of the peace contract between them had been accepted with grace was because they knew he had enough power at his disposal to make the exchange worthwhile, particularly when added to what they knew about his inventive tendencies.

Then, Akihito and his council had graciously accepted an alliance with a powerful and inventive fellow wizard and ruler.

Seeing the speed he could acquire knowledge and his willingness to learn anything suggested to him, Akihito -- after a brief chat with Harry to gauge his willingness -- had instructed the small squad assigned to Harry to expand the subject base they were offering him.

He included more manuals on the language, both ancient and modern. 

As thanks, Harry spent a couple evenings translating some of the most ancient and fragile texts he had been given into modern copies that could in turn be copied and distributed at Akihito’s discretion to the various magical libraries spread throughout Japan.

He had been spending so much of his days conversing in Japanese that Sirius quietly pointed out it had softened his English accent into something that was neither here nor there. Something that had amused Sirius but had left Harry with some mixed feelings.

Harry spent more than one night after that contemplating what exactly made a person who they were. And how much a person could grow and change before they became unrecognisable compared to the person they had once been.

Logically he knew growth and change were both usually healthy things, that stagnation of the self was something akin to a small death of the soul.

But he did wonder, if there would come a point in the future, that he learnt and by extension changed so much that Ron and Hermione would wonder what had become of the boy from the Hogwarts Express.

He had quietly shared the worry with Akihito during one of the chats the older man had made sure to schedule time for and had been advised in turn that any true friend would likely feel either insulted or deep regret and shame if they felt they were the reason their friend was not allowing themselves to be all they could. To achieve the pinnacle of their Self, whatever that happened to be.

The emperor had added that there was no true way of telling just when all of that accumulated growth would be needed and how greatly the ownership or lack thereof would impact the lives of those he cared about. Whether it was his friends or the country that relied on him for guidance and protection.

Even the greatest of seers and fortune tellers could only see so far and so much.

The young king had taken that spot of wisdom and had meditated on it for several hours before coming to the conclusion that the older man was right.

If he couldn’t be certain what the future held for the people he felt responsible for, then his best bet was to try and be as prepared as possible.

With that in mind he had all but moved into the imperial library with the blessings of Akihito and the semi-frequent company of Sirius when he wasn’t in session with the imperial healer who had taken him under wing, or one of Akihito’s children when their schedules permitted.

He had been semi-dragged out to attend Akihito’s birthday celebrations a couple days prior in order for him to meet more of the Japanese nobles to help cement deeper ties -- and to be shown off, though he knew it was better manners not to mention it like that -- so his inventions and assistance would be better received in the long run.

Now just a couple of days later, and a few days before he was scheduled to return to Skyfall to assist in the construction of the Great Library whose design necessitated multiple complex and powerful enchantments.

Both to help protect it from the elements and natural disasters so it had a greater chance of enduring the slow march of time, but also to protect it from less natural threats. 

The world as a whole had lost more great libraries than the Earth had countries.

Harry was rather keen on the idea of building one that could never be lost.

Or more importantly, has its contained knowledge lost.

Already in the few weeks he had been studying in Japan he reckoned he had acquired more knowledge on blood magic than anyone in Britain had ever known.

Spells and rituals for genealogy, diagnostics, household protection and warding. 

He had picked up so many things about magical healing that he found that he was barely even disappointed he hadn’t managed to find anything about horcruxes.

Though that no longer surprised him since the more he learned about the Japanese people and their culture he learned that more often than not, when faced with the unavoidable knowledge of death they greeted it with honour and dignity rather than destroying their Self in an effort to stave off the inevitable.

Even the few wixen that had really gone off the deep end in their pursuit of power or wealth had understood that there were some things one simply didn’t do.

Mutilating one's own soul was somewhere up near the top.

Harry reckoned he had the restorative tonics he had been given with each meal to thank for his lack of head splitting migraine after the hours and hours spent each day absorbing every bit of knowledge he could get his hands on.

Or was thrust into his hands.

He was almost completely certain he had absorbed more knowledge than had ever graced Hogwarts stone walls.

Not that he was keen to brag to Hermione or anything.

Harry stretched in place, the last of his books for the day closed and already on its way back to its appropriate shelf space.

He had been at it for most of the day, only breaking for his meals and for a walk around the gardens with Sirius to catch up since Sirius had, over the last week, taken to exploring Tokyo while Harry read.

He had returned from each escorted trip bearing tales of massive underground train stations that had their own shopping arcades. About towering buildings that feature floor after floor of entertainments that ranged from pinball and darts, which Sirius was familiar with, to electronic games of mixed variety.

The Marauder had managed to extract a promise from Harry to look into replicating the technology since Sirius was of the opinion that all the new clubs for kids at school were fine and dandy but there hadn’t been much planned for entertainment outside of it.

Considering the stories Harry had heard thus far about the rather widespread range of shenanigans his dad and Sirius had managed to get up to during their summers during their Hogwarts years...it was probably sound advice.

So he had several topics that needed seeing to before he had to head back to Britain in May for the next task for the menace of a tournament, which would take place primarily underwater if the hints he and the other champions had been given were to be believed.

The library, which had been well planned out in advance but required a rather intense amount of time and magic to enchant and activate runes that would be layered throughout the huge structure. 

After a great deal of debate Harry and the rest of the construction team had decided on a pyramid base building that would be accessible to all and contain a wealth of fictional, historical and general knowledge tomes. Above it would float an icosahedron shaped structure that would only be accessible via specially enchanted portkey platforms that could only be triggered by intentional use of magic. Each of its twenty faces would be deeply inscribed with layers of runes of multiple origins including a couple Harry had managed to find that were considered dead languages because there weren’t enough people left alive that knew and used them.

The space inside both structures deeply enchanted to be effectively infinite, going on and on. It would also -- provided Harry had all his arithmancy and his theory was correct -- with the correct infusion of magic and ritual possible, if not probably, to awaken in a form of its own sort of synthetic sentience much like Hogwarts.

That would allow the furniture, from stacks to tables and piles of cushions, to move to a guest depending on their needs. Which also meant the internal structure could shift so a guest could turn a corner and find a restroom or cafe that hadn’t been there previously. Or that turn another corner and find the exit portkey platforms, despite having wandered potentially literal days away from the ones they had arrived on.

Which meant that new books or historical artifacts could continuously be added until the end of magic and there would still be room available for more. And that every magical being or creature in the world could theoretically fit inside its walls at the same time and not bump into each other.

Its enchantments would render its parts unbreakable, unaffected by intense heat, cold, spell fire or pressure. Its air, water and stability runes would ensure that even if the entire island somehow sank to the bottom of the ocean or was enveloped in lava or poisonous gasses from its volcanoes, that the atmosphere inside the library would not be affected.

Needless to say, the Great Library had in part also been planned out as an emergency shelter for the people of Volstar, should the worst happen.

It was a labour of love and a beacon that would display the absolute best that could be achieved when the magical races worked together in harmony instead of beating each other down or distrusting each other.

It honestly made Harry a little teary when he thought on it a bit too long.

The second project was somewhat less pleasant to think about, but necessary regardless.

No matter how peaceful Volstar was at present, or how well its current citizens intermingled, it was almost inevitable that at some point down the line someone would break the law and a prison would be required.

Absolutely everyone that had discussed the matter -- whether they were part of the construction crews or not -- had been adamant that the structure be as far from Azkaban as it was possible to be and still be counted as a prison.

Sirius had been the only person that had been quiet on the matter, though Harry had spent enough nights awake talking his godfather through horrific nightmares that centered on his memories of Azkaban for him to mistake the silence for not caring or disagreement.

For all that the structure itself would reside in the centre of the islands largest active volcano, it would share a great many of the enchantments that would protect it and isolate its internal form from the outside world and its influences.

Each cell would in reality be a suite that more closely resemble a moderately sized flat than a typical jail cell. Temperature controlled to a constant twenty-four degrees celsius during the day and a comfortably cool fifteen degrees celsius during the night. Which would keep close enough to the temperature shifts of the outside world that prisoners would be less likely to become sick from temperature shock upon leaving the prison once their allotted sentence was complete.

Each ‘cell’ would consist of several rooms that would be isolated from each other cell and occupant. 

A dining area where balanced meals would be directly delivered by house-elves. 

A living area with comfortable seating, a bookshelf that would contain works of fiction that would rotate on a monthly basis, a desk and chair that could be used to write correspondence -- which would of course be checked before it left the facility -- which could help inmates keep contact with family and approved friends so they didn’t become so cut off from the world outside they failed to reintegrate upon departure.

A small indoor garden that would be maintained by house-elves but would contain non-poisonous flowering plants that would theoretically help soothe and provide a quiet space for inmates to meditate.

A well appointed bathroom and a room that would contain magical equivalents of mundane exercise equipment to make sure each inmate had ample opportunity to exercise and work off excess energy.

Good behaviour would be rewarded with desserts, art supplies and other small entertainments that would help lighten the monotony of the day-to-day. Poor behaviour would see those rewards removed. The only interaction they would have with other sapient beings would potentially be the elves that would maintain their quarters and a healer if they became ill and a mind healer that would visit them once a week unless the inmate proved too dangerous.

The idea being that a person treated like an animal was more likely to react thusly, so if Harry -- and the population of Volstar as a whole -- wanted any chance of law breakers learning from their wrongs and reduce the risk of them committing another crime and ending up right back in prison, then they would need to be treated with as much respect as anyone else and given every opportunity to become a law abiding citizen once more.

Of course they had taken into consideration those unfortunate members of society that through greed or other motivators refused to reform and would continue to be a danger to others.

They would remain in their assigned place for the rest of their days, treated humanely but no less barred from the chance to hurt others ever again.

Harry hadn’t wanted to completely discredit the possibility -- however hopefully unlikely -- that a repeat of what had happened to Sirius might occur at some point in the future.

As many failsafes as he tried to build into the court processes to ensure guilt before any sort of sentencing or relocation could occur, he wasn’t willing to gamble a potentially innocent person's life on the sort of self-assured arrogance that had permeated the British Ministry and more importantly its legal system.

So the correctional facility would be the product of several months of intense planning and research and to an extent emulate the examples set forth by the Japanese and Scandanavian magical correctional systems.

Lastly was of course Sirius’ emphatic suggestion regarding the expansion of entertainment options.

Even if he wasn’t sure about the older man's insistence regarding the muggle arcade machines -- though he would look into it as promised --, that didn’t mean there weren’t other options that Harry knew they could plan for and start putting together as soon as they got back.

Like live theatre performances that used magic to enact the sort of stage effects that mundane plays and concerts just couldn’t hope to replicate with machinery. Public swimming pools that would be modeled after desert oasis or forest waterfall grotto’s, artificial inland beaches with water that mimicked the tides. Slides and aquatic toys that blended into each artificial environment.

Public parks and petting zoos were honestly some of the easiest things they could create.

Though a full scale zoo that catered to both magical and mundane fauna that would double as a research and breeding facility for endangered species was also on the books. And he had worked out a permanent way to record and project audio and visual information stored into crystal on a larger scale than the memory orbs that he and the twins had created as merchandise for the Tri-Wizard tournament.

Which meant, they now had a way to create a magical version of muggle movie theatres and a smaller home edition not dissimilar to a mundane vhs and tape combo. All they needed was the production end, meaning actors, wardrobe and effects divisions.

For all it seemed like all he did lately was throw himself face first into the danger of the tournament or into the admittedly disturbing amount of books he had been consuming post ritual, he still had managed to work on and coordinate the foundations on a great many projects either via correspondence or via his crown to earring mental communication relay. 

Something that had long since proved itself worth more than its weight in gold.

Despite coming up with nothing new regarding horcruxes -- the quiet bugbear at the back of his mind -- there was still plenty enough to focus on and to put into action.

He could honestly return home with a feeling of accomplishment. 

One that didn’t at all feel like a consolation to a greater potential achievement.

He had learned so much that had previously been closed to him, and managed to find time besides, to cement plans that would further add life and security to the home he had built.

Sirius had taken like an overgrown sometimes furry fish to water where the Japanese restorative treatments, meditation and mind healing were concerned. He was calm, patient and introspective in a way Harry had never known him to be.

And if Harry himself, who had seen and talked to him every day of their weeks long trip, was a touch awed by the change...well, he could only imagine what Remus’ reaction to it would be.

Truly, the combination of Harry’s new potion and the other treatments had done a sort of wonder for Sirius’ built up years of agonies, large and small.

Now all they had to do was wade through the fallout from the recently released and very public statement from the British Ministry that admitted to the masses that despite best attempts to prove otherwise, that it seemed that several individuals had been placed in Azkaban without proper procedure being followed.

The papers and letters Remus had read to him over their connection had done a wonderful job of listing out each infraction the internal investigation had turned up.

Lord Crouch had gone from quiet embarrassment of dubious standing to criminal awaiting trial.

His convicted criminal son who had apparently been magically compelled to remain hidden in their home had been freed by means that remained undisclosed by the Ministry and had gone on to infiltrate Hogwarts and interfere with the tournament that was currently underway.

Several members in uncomfortably high stations were revealed to have been embezzling from the Ministry coffers.

An uncomfortable number of aurors were apparently revealed to have been accepting bribes to look the other way or worse were found to be abusing their power to extort money or services from businesses.

Not to mention the glaring reminder that the Undersecretary had assassinated the previous Minister.

The British governing body had devolved into horrifying shambles of starkly highlighted corruption that had the ICW in an uproar.

At least according to a letter Harry and Akihito had both received announcing the call for an emergency session to discuss whether or not ambassadors from the ICW should be sent to ‘encourage’ the British Ministry to very thoroughly clean house and get its act together.

Considering the last time the ICW had stepped in to conduct an audit of a ICW nation’s actions and holdings had been during the cleanup that had followed the terrible march of Gellert Grindelwald, it said rather a lot about just what the magical world -- at least the wix side of it -- thought about Britain’s ability to take care of their own messes.

And that wasn’t adding on the fact that they likely were unaware that Britain’s own self styled Dark Lord was not quite as dead and defeated as had been previously reported.

 _What a time to be alive._ Harry thought with a sigh.


	30. The Court of Cursed Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Co. return from their trip and set into motion something long overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday Lovelies, and Happy New Year.
> 
> Sorry, I'm about to stop on that happy vibe. This chapter may be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for some, so be kind to yourselves and tread lightly, hmm?

#### 1st March 1995 - Landing Zone, Skyfall, Volstar

If he was being honest, Harry would admit to expecting Remus to look a little frazzled when they appeared on the landing zone reserved for incoming travellers, it was something of a norm for when he returned from extended stays away from Skyfall.

He hadn’t expected it to be quite as bad as was obvious this time around.

Remus’s brows were a touch pulled down and he had bags under his eyes that hadn’t been there when they had left just a couple of weeks prior. 

They got as far as the hug that had become the customary way to greet each other after a prolonged absence before Harry found out why.

“Sorry to do this when you’ve literally just gotten back, but I need you to pen a letter Rufus Scrimgeour. Since the man was confirmed Minister for Britain his office has sent up no less than twelve letters demanding we turn Sirius over to British custody for trial.” Remus said, one worn hand reaching up to run through his hair in agitation. “I’m fairly fluent in four languages, but there’s only so many ways I can tell him to politely bugger off.”

Blinking a little at the situation Harry sighed and waved away the apology. “It’s fine, Remus. Thanks for taking care of the rest. I’ll head into the office now and write some letters, see if I can’t remind him that his time would be better served handling the train wreck otherwise known as the British Ministry.”

Behind him Sirius huffed a quiet laugh, drawing Harry’s attention to him.

“I wouldn’t giggle too much there, Padfoot. Now they’ve finally officially released confirmation that you weren’t given a proper trial, you’re going to have to be properly questioned.” Harry reminded him while his goblin guards bowed and popped away to report in with Goldhammer. “That means standing in one of the courtrooms opposite our Wizengamot as it stands now, where you can’t tell even a white lie and you’ll have to answer every question put to you.”

Grimacing slightly Sirius inclined his head. “I know, Pup, I did a few trial runs with Nobu this last week after we got news. He advised me to have a session with Frederick after while it was all still raw and fresh so I couldn’t avoid some of the things I tend to subconsciously bury.”

Harry nodded seriously, reaching up to give his godfather's shoulder a firm squeeze.

Remus, who had been staring at Sirius rather intently, took a couple steps forward. “You know, you actually look younger. You actually look much closer to your age now, like azkaban and the war never touched you.”

“Back to my old heartbreaker self, if unspeakably old now.” Sirius joked back, tossing the other a roguish grin.

The werewolf huffed and rolled his eyes. “Thirty-five isn’t unspeakably old.”

“Not what I thought the last time I looked remotely this good.” Sirius threw back then shrugged. “On the other hand, I’ve got a better understanding why asian folks always seem to be ageless right up until their hundreds.”

Harry chuckled at that. “Oh yeah, if this kingdom stuff doesn’t work out, I could always open up one of those fancy salon spa things and probably live pretty happily.”

“Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.” His godfather murmured, reaching up with one hand to lightly trace his wrinkle free face. “If you took on a few students and passed on the knowledge, it could be something else we could offer tourists. You know, come for a holiday, leave with a new lease on life.”

“Not a bad idea at all, given how much some people seem to be willing to spend to prolong their youthfulness.” Remus agreed, arms moving to cross over his chest. “We’ve been doing pretty well with our exports, particularly the saffron and coffee beans since the muggle market for both of those is quite intense. The Occamy shells, venom and creature parts are doing well on the magical markets too for the moment, so we have a decent sum coming in. At least enough to keep construction running smooth and pay everyone’s wages.”

Sirius snorted indelicately, tossing his long hair over his shoulder. “Helps when you don’t have a bunch of wankers in power knicking money straight out of the coffers to line their dodgy pockets.”

“There’s that.”

Harry hummed quietly, luminous eyes scanning the horizon and taking in the mountain ranges and forests he could make out. “I remember aunt Petunia being pretty into stuff like that, the salon thing, not the stealing. She used to go to a salon just about every other week to get ‘pampered’ or whatever they do.”

“Shame she didn’t put as much effort into her insides.” His godfather growled bitterly, face twisting into a sneer as he looked away.

The young king shrugged. “Anyway, you might be right about adding it to the tourism roster. We already have natural hot springs up in the mountains...yeah, that’ll work I think. Sirius, do me a favour and start writing up a list of stuff-”

“Yeah, I can do that, know just where to start too.” The older animagus announced with a grin. “Just need you to drop me off in Greece, I can make my way across to Italy and France from there then meet you there again for a lift back home.”

“Trial first.” Remus reminded him, turning to lead the way into the city center to the Ministry building.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius waved, moving to trudge after him.

Harry sighed softly at the pair but nonetheless made his way after them, absently sending out patronus invocations to alert the Wizengamot members that there would be a long overdue trial at ten the next morning.

The sooner done the better.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning dawned clear and bright despite the sombre mood that had spread through the city when word had gotten around about Sirius’ impending trial. 

It was common knowledge that there would be one eventually, once Britain either supplied or failed to supply evidence and transcripts of auror interrogation, investigation and Wizengamot court trial.

Apparently more than one person had been stewing over the necessity since the news broke regarding the British Ministry’s failings.

Harry knew there were several that were annoyed with the whole formality, having decided to judge Sirius on the merit of actions and behaviour they got to see for themselves. As well as coming to a conclusion that if Harry himself trusted him so much with his own wellbeing and the things he cared about, then the things he had been accused of couldn’t be true.

Others still were, in their own way, looking forward to witnessing or otherwise hearing that a definitive conclusion occurred. Though thankfully it seemed less motivated by a desire for dramatics and instead was driven by lingering worries regarding safety.

Lastly there was the more abundant group that just wanted the whole mess done and out of the way so everyone could get back to work. Not truly caring whether he was guilty or not, just that he was there now, not causing problems and instead was working just as hard as the rest of them to build their new home.

Sitting in his high seat, positioned so he could freely view the entirety of the courtroom with its dark wooden walls and floor. The large planters that lined the walls filled with small trees and decorative plants, braziers and small fountains that bubbled quietly between the planters.

There were windows lining the walls and a large glass dome in the roof that let in plenty of natural light and air despite none of the walls actually touching an exterior wall with the courtroom being positioned on one of the lower floors and closer to the middle of the building for security reasons.

The configuration brought the four primary of the eight major elements into the huge room which was both relevant for the rituals that had bound the room into a place of truth.

Neatly lined through the room sat seven rows of seven stone benches that had cushioning charms enchanted onto them. A small measure to bring stone into the room and help the goblins feel more comfortable in it, just like the abundance of plants made the elves more at ease.

Little things here and there, all throughout the planning, had been put into place to make the Ministry building as a whole welcoming to as many races as possible.

Like the large cushions that sat piled neatly next to either side wall for beings that felt more comfortable closer to the ground, or the large empty space behind the rows of benches for larger races like centaurs and half-giants.

Inclusion was key to the plans, much like it had been with all the other designs he and the rest of the construction crew had put together.

The ritual magic that had soaked into the room, scored into wood and stone at specific points, that had been all Harry’s idea. Calling on the forces of nature and magic to forbid the utterance of lies, regardless of what the speaker believed was the truth.

The winds knew what words were spoken, the water what tears and blood were spilled, the earth what steps were tread and the fire what emotion raged.

Magic _knew_ always and forever, in past, in present, in future.

It stretched across time and space, through reality and dreams.

You could not lie to magic.

This of course meant that no one that stepped foot within any of the court rooms or even any of the offices tied to the Department of Law and Order could speak or even think a falsehood, given the strength of the ritual.

On one hand it was quite beneficial in getting the facts in an investigation, and would also help immensely in tracking of possible sources of corruption. It also made all jobs assigned to these areas require mandatory therapy sessions on a month to month basis, since everyone lied to themselves in tiny ways, white lies that were mostly unconscious thoughts that popped up to make them feel better about this or that.

There were less permanent versions enchanted into the Minister’s office, Harry’s office and the big meeting room which was meant for the most important meetings. These ones could be triggered on or off and were keyed to the ‘owner’ of those rooms. Meaning the ruler of the land and the head of the Ministry.

Harry watched the last of their Wizengamot members take their seats on either side of his little box. Below his position there were three other boxed seats that were separated from the rest of the Wizengamot, those three would seat the Head of the Department of Law and Order for Volstar as a whole, the Minister and the Head of the Department of Health Services for Volstar.

Three spots that were presently empty.

In future when they had more than one city, those spaces would be filled with the regional heads and city mayor, building their own High Court in each city with the Wizengamot of Skyfall acting as the country’s supreme court.

He watched as the rows of spectator seating were filled by the curious. The citizens of Skyfall few as they were, had been given a day off work since most of the various team leaders were members of the Wizengamot, so rather than expect everyone else to work on a free day had been decided on for everyone to either spectate or entertain themselves in some other fashion.

Before long the tenth hour of the morning rolled around and since everyone that needed to be present was already there and seated, Harry closed the huge double doors with a negligent flick of his hand then cast eyes over to where Percy Weasley -- recently poached from the British Ministry -- was seated.

“The assigned time is upon us and all relevant parties are present, the trial of Lord Sirius Orion Black the Third will now commence.” He announced, noting the triplicate of dicta-quills Percy was controlling had leapt to action to record everything. 

“We, Harry James Hyperion of the Royal and Ancient house of Potter, Sovereign of Volstar, preside over this trial.” He intoned, attention focused on the crowd for the moment now that he was sure that Percy didn’t seem to be having trouble keeping up. “Also in attendance, the blessed Wizengamot of Volstar as noted. We begin this session, dated the second day of March in the year nineteen-ninety-five of the common era. Mr. Percy Weasley sitting as court scribe.”

“In this hall, blessed and cursed by the forces of nature and magic itself with unending truth, we call Lord Black to be seated in the defendants seat.” Harry stated, casting a glance toward Sirius where he stood to one side and gestured to a cushioned stone seat in the middle of a rune etched circle between the officials seating and the seating assigned for case relevant individuals.

He watched his godfather stride forward to take up his own seat, back straight and eyes forward.

“State your identity for the record.”

“Sirius Orion Black the Third, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Sometimes called Padfoot.” The last was tacked on the end, his brief expression of surprise giving away the fact that he apparently hadn’t meant to say it.

“You were arrested and accused in Wizarding Great Britain of the alleged murder of one Peter Pettigrew and twelve additional non-magical human bystanders and subsequently sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban Prison for these alleged crimes, is this correct?”

“Yes.” Sirius answered clearly, hands fisting in his lap.

“You remained in Azkaban designated prisoner Kenaz-Algiz-Three-Nine-Zero, until you managed to escape from your cell in the year nineteen-ninty-three, is that correct?”

“It is.”

“Since then you have largely remained hidden from authorities until you reached out to Volstar for asylum, claiming that you were innocent of the crimes you allegedly perpetrated and that you had not been given just trial by the courts of Wizarding Great Britain.” Harry stated calmly.

It was a little annoying having to go over all the things he already knew. Like picking at an old wound but this, being the first major trial -- the first trial, period -- of their fledgling nation meant that this trial would be held under close scrutiny.

Any favouritism by him would reflect poorly on his leadership. Not giving the trial its proper respect and seriousness, and failure to follow the set protocol would set a terrible precedent that could come back to bite them all in the ass.

And that aside, memory and record of the trial would be sent to the ICW for dissemination and archival. Which of course it meant other world leaders that had reservations regarding his ability to lead and perform the duties expected of him would be waiting for anything that could be used as an excuse that could be trotted out whenever they wanted.

Maybe that was too cynical.

Maybe.

Though since they were about to use Britains own mess to help them, he didn’t really think he could throw stones.

“We reached out to the British Ministry of Magic, particularly the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for information and any and all evidence collected and used during your first trial. Madam Amelia Bones has since penned letter to us stating a lack of any such evidence so we must proceed as best we can without it.” He stated for the record. “Do you object?”

“I do not.” Sirius replied clearly.

“Very well, do you have any evidence to submit in your defense or council you wish to speak on your behalf?”

Sirius nodded. “I freely submit my memories of both the night in question and several others that lead up to it which prove my innocence.”

“And council?”

“None, I’ll speak for myself.”

Harry nodded, not surprised despite the fact they hadn’t discussed it beforehand. “Very well. Then you have been charged with the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve non-magicals whose names were either not recorded or lost with the rest of your case details. Regardless, in this sacred place dedicated to Truth and Magic, what say you?”

“I am innocent of the murders I was charged with. I have never murdered anyone, I have taken lives in defense of myself and others as was required of me in my position as auror for the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Sirius stated, voice clear and just loud enough to carry through the large room. “But I have never taken a sapient life without due provocation.”

A part of Harry wanted to smile at the very exact, very deliberate choice of words, but he managed to swallow it before his lips had a chance to twitch.

“How is it then, that you came to be arrested for first degree murder?”

Sirius took a moment to breathe, gray eyes shifting to focus on the floor as he prepared to discuss -- hopefully for the last time -- one of the most painful days of his life.

“The last time I managed to visit James and Lily I cast wellbeing charms around the house. In the living room, kitchen and the nursery.” He started, licking his lips unconsciously. “The past week had been too quiet on the Death Eater front, they’d escalated up to a raid a day, sometimes twice a day so the sudden lull in activity had everyone on edge. A prophecy told to Albus Dumbledore placed both the Longbottom’s and the Potter’s on high alert as high profile targets for Death Eater aggression which necessitated both families going into hiding.

“I was worried that the lull meant they were gearing up for something bigger, so I cast the charms just in case and I warned Peter to watch his back and keep an eye out, just in case.”

“Why warn Peter Pettigrew specifically?”

“James and Lily had hidden their home behind a Fidelius charm with Peter acting as their Secret Keeper. I had thought they would be safe enough behind the charm if Peter were careful while I was running around playing decoy.” Sirius replied.

“So you placed the charms and issued warnings of your own. What then?”

The older man fidgeted a little, Sirius’ hands no longer scarred or worn fisted in the material of his pants legs. “The charms flatlined and I panicked. I got on my bike and bolted to James’ place…”

He paused, hands rhythmically releasing and clenching over and over in what Harry recognised as a semi-conscious action meant to soothe and ground him.

Harry leaned forward slightly, arms coming up to rest on his desk. “What did you find?”

Sirius shuddered in place, hands reaching up to rub over his face and back through his long hair. “The door was blown in when I got there and James...James was on the floor non-re...non-responsive. Not breathing, no pulse.”

Harry’s heart broke, just a bit for Sirius in the here and now. More than a decade later and months of extensive therapy sessions and a full course of Healing Serenity later and the mere fact of James Potter’s death still affected him so strongly that his voice broke when he tried to speak of it.

It said quite a lot about just how deeply Sirius had loved man who had been all but a twin of his own soul. The brother he had found, that had touched his life in ways his own blood kin hadn’t.

“And then?” He asked, intent on getting through the retelling as soon as possible so Sirius didn’t have to linger on it.

The older man licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I went up stairs to the nursery, I knew if Lily wasn’t with James, then there was nowhere else she’d be than with her baby boy...she was on the floor, between the crib and the door. Non-responsive, not breathing, no pulse.” He paused again to breathe a little, seemingly trying to center himself a little before he forged ahead. “You- ah, baby Harry was in his cot screaming. He was bleeding sluggish from a wound on his head.

“I stopped the bleeding and cleaned him up, grabbed the nappy bag Lily kept packed and left the house intending to get him somewhere safe.” Sirius finished, shoulders having relaxed into a slight slump after he was finished talking about his dead friends.

Harry gave him another moment to settle and separate himself from the then and there.

Eventually though, knowing that the sooner the last bits were done the better, Harry asked. “What happened next?”

“Hagrid, err, Rubeus Hagrid was just arriving when I was working my way out of the house. He said that the Headmaster had felt the wards break and had sent him to check on things. To secure Harry if he had somehow survived and get him back to the safety of Hogwarts.” Sirius responded, hands fisted in his lap again, this time from lingering frustration. “I didn’t want to let him go, but the wards of Hogwarts seemed like the strongest shelter and I thought I should check on Peter...I thought he might have needed help if the Death Eaters had managed to get The Secret out of him.”

“So to clarify, you gave my infant self into the hands of Rubeus Hagrid to see me delivered into the protection of Hogwarts Castle and went in search of Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” Sirius answered. “I gave Hagrid my enchanted motorcycle to use since I didn’t know if it would be safe to apparate you without knowing the extent of your injury. I apparated instead to a spot near Peter’s flat and went up to find him.”

“What did you find?” Harry pressed, a quick glance to Percy showed the quills still working quickly to take everything down.

“He was bloody fine, shoving clothes into a bag. He didn’t even pretend that he hadn’t given up The Secret happily. He taunted me and dodged out of the way when I tried to capture him. He fled his flat and I gave chase...we came to a spot at a nearby stretch of shops. He taunted me some more then turned and fired at the crowd and used a severing charm on his own finger before he shifted into his animagus form and escaped into the sewer. I...I broke, and the aurors arrived not long after.”

The young king leaned back in his seat, casting a silent glance to the Wizengamot members seated slightly below and to either side of him. Their expressions ranged rather drastically from person to person but there didn’t appear to be much in the way of skepticism or outright disbelief.

He knew from the house-elves that just about every resident of Skyfall had paid the courtrooms a visit after their construction had completed, curious to test the two-fold truth telling blessing and curse.

The initial reactions had been a little mixed since more than a few had come away from their experimentation feeling more than a little unsettled after apparently finding themselves forced to face truths about some event or feeling in their present or past that they had either not been aware of or had been repressing.

He had sent more than one resident to the Quiet Mind ward of the Glimmerbright hospital to speak to one of the cities recently immigrated Mind-Healers for therapy to help them face whatever it was in a safe and carefully guided fashion.

Given the fact that no one seemed overly distressed, aside from a bit of upset here and there as Sirius’ story unfolded. Well, Harry had decided to be optimistically enthused by the positive change.

“You offered up your memories of that night and We will accept them. The projection charm We will use will latch onto the memory and will pull all those within its area of effect into it. We will see all that was there to see, smell every scent, taste the wind, hear the cries, feel what was touched and live your emotions.” The young king explained solemnly. “When the reliving is done there will be no individual in this courtroom that will not know the events as they transpired as they had lived it themselves. They will live on with that knowledge without falsehood or self-deception, do you understand?”

Sirius licked his lips and nodded. “I do.” He croaked.

Harry turned glowing eyes away from Sirius to address the courtroom as a whole. “Then it lies with each of you to consider honestly whether you wish to and can bear the burden of this memory. We will take a brief ten minute recess, in that time please each of you consider carefully whether you wish to return to this hall and share in the reliving. Please remember that many may find the events distressing and each person should take their own mental and emotional state into account while deliberating.”

With that he absently flexed a little of his magic in line with his will and a soft chime sounded and the courtroom doors opened to allow foot traffic in or out as required before he rose from his feet and led the Wizengamot members and Percy through a large set of doors behind their benches that led into a sizeable hall with private restrooms and seating for their own deliberation.

And while they did that Frederick would take a few moments to chat quietly with Sirius to make sure he was doing as well as he could, given the situation.

So relocated to a less formal spot in the conference room, Harry let most of the quiet conversation that started up wash over him. He was honestly pleased, at least just a little, that everyone had opted to use quieter tones while they talked.

It felt, in a way, more respectful.

Both to the topic they were covering and to the knowledge that they were about to literally experience someone else’s pain in order to officially determine innocence or guilt.

Although based on the testimony that had already been given and the fact that as far as anyone knew it was impossible to lie inside the courtrooms, everyone technically knew he was innocent already. The rest was follow through with due diligence.

Analyzing everything available to them so they could archive it or pass it along as required.

When ten minutes was up Harry led the way back into the courtroom and gave it a few extra moments to make sure everyone that did want to be present was before he shut the huge doors and shifted his attention to regard the spectators seating. He noted a few faces that had opted not to return to the courtroom and felt a moment of pride that they may be putting more thought into their mental wellbeing than they had previously.

By the time the memory had run its course and they were all focused back in the here and now, there was more than one person weeping and Harry felt something he had not in quite some time.

Envy.

The need to maintain face and keep control had never really seemed like such a burden as it did now.

He sat in his high throne and watched Remus hold Sirius close as they cried together and felt an odd sort of sharp numbness.

“Before this court pronounces a verdict, there are a few more memories that need to be viewed.” He said, voice loud enough to be heard over the quiet whispering that had started up.

He watched Sirius and Remus detached themselves from each other and rub the remains of their tears from their faces before they looked up at him, confusion clear.

“Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...my mood shifted in a pretty big way when I was writing this one, which I imagine is pretty obvious.  
> Oh well, what did you think of the chapter?  
> Thoughts, theories and random pondering is welcome down bellow in the comments or on the Discord server (Metalduck Garden, invite in the end-end notes)
> 
> Totally unrelated note, but I'm kind of madly in love with the Cyberpunk 2077 soundtrack, there's a playlist on Spotify that was put together by a dude by the name of LiquidCorn that has all the songs from the game plus some extras that fit the theme (from the same artists whose music is part of the soundtrack. It's almost 14 hours of music all up...this is my life now. )  
> Also, what do people thing about the idea of me writing a Cyberpunk fanfic? I've got a few ideas bouncing around my brain currently, but I'm not sure if I should let them run their course or not. APA would still be the priority with its weekly updates, because I don't want to get so distracted that I don't finish it. *strokes chin*
> 
> Oh, P.P.S: Massive shoutout to Silver Drip who has been taking the time to review and point out little mistakes (typos mostly) so that I could go back, find them and fix them so the next person along to read would have a smoother/better experience/read. :D  
> Thanks again!


	31. Living Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory, clear as life, of old pains once forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Monday.
> 
> Sorry I'm about to punch you in the chest...mostly...maybe...sorrynotsorry
> 
> Be advised we have the re-enactment of canon death in this chapter, sorry if it that upsets you.

#### 31st October 1981 - Potter Cottage, Godric’s Hollow, England

Harry was crawling across hardwood floor making his way through a cozy looking drawing room.

He stops for a brief moment to play with the tasseling on the end of the large red persian rug that takes up most of the floor space before he gets bored with it and resumes his journey.

He makes it to a door, directly opposite the one he had entered from and using the wall levers himself onto his little feet and hand on the wall, he uses the solid surface to keep his steps steady as he totters the last couple of steps.

Little fist rising he smacks it against the door in a rather poor facsimile of a knock but it’s apparently enough because a moment later it opens to reveal a pair of legs then a smiling face.

Lily crouches down to bring herself closer to her son’s eye level. “Hello, Mischief, come to visit mum?” She asked, jade eyes dancing as she reaches out with the hand not holding a notepad to lightly boop his nose.

Behind her the potion room is a riot of smells that are mostly ignored by baby Harry who bounces a little in place and waves his still closed fist. “Dadadada!”

“Oh, daddy sent you did he?” She asks, expression patiently amused.

“Yayaya!” He all but screams, bouncing in place again, hand still on the wall to support himself.

She laughs at his enthusiasm, an edge of tiredness slipping away for a moment. “Well, we better go see what he wants, yeah?”

Baby Harry squeals and tries to quickly turn on the spot but ends up falling to hands and knees.

“Steady there, Mischief.” Lily says from behind him while she stands again and closes the door to the potions lab, making sure it’s securely latched before following after him as he pushes himself to his little feet again and toddles forward, periodically steadying himself with the wall as he goes.

Lily chuckles quietly as she watches him go and slows her own pace to keep pace with him as they move through the drawing room then into the dining room where he slows to unsteadily weave his way around a hutch resting against the wall he was using.

Lily pauses long enough to set her notepad on the dining table before moving to peek into the kitchen just a step behind baby Harry who upon seeing his father at the stove starts babbling excitedly.

“Ooh, you found mum, good work!” James cheers, grinning down at his son.

“Mm, came and knocked on the door like a little gentleman.” Lily informs him with a proud smile.

“O’course he did, the little heartbreaker.” James chuckles, giving his son an exaggerated wink that had him laughing and clapping his hands happily. “I’m just about done with dinner, if you want to set the table and get Harry into his high chair?”

“Sure. Come on, Mischief, let's get you into your special chair.” Lily chirps, swooping down to swing a squealing Harry up into her arms.

Back in the dining room a negligent wave of one hand saw plates and cutlery to fly from the hutch into place on the dining table while Lily settles her son into his polished wood highchair at the end of the table, buckling him in so he wouldn’t try to crawl out of it.

James appears in the room a moment later, wand aloft as he directs several dishes onto the table. A roast dinner of chicken, pumpkin, potatoes and broccoli and corn on the cob.

He settles into his seat and tucks his wand away. He starts to turn toward Harry with a bowl of mashed vegetables and some carefully picked out bits of chicken meat when the doorbell chimes.

Lily shifts her attention from serving herself towards the entry hall. “That’ll be Sirius again. I swear he’s got a timer set up, he’s more reliable than the upstairs clock.”

Setting aside Harry’s colourful bowl, James pushes himself back to his feet. “Not true, I fixed it this afternoon, so they’re about on par.” He quipps, drawing a snort of laughter from his wife that makes him grin before leaving the room.

Lily finishes dishing up her own plate and starts in on James’ while Harry happily babbles away.

James reappears a few moments later when she was seating herself again with a tired looking Sirius trailing along behind him.

“Joining us for dinner, Sirius?” Lily offers.

“I’m fine thanks, just stopped by to check in.” Sirius replies as he picks up a chair and shuffles it around so he could sit next to the highchair.

Hearing the new voice, baby Harry looks toward it and screams, both arms flailing in joy.

“There’s my little mischief maker, gonna let your uncle Padfoot give you dinner?” Sirius asks with a grin, looking rather pleased with the reception.

“You and your bloody rockstar welcome.” Lily grumbles, rubbing absently at the ear closest to her son. “I swear he only gets that loud with you.”

Sirius shoots her a grin while he absently stuck his pinky in the mashed up pumpkin to test the temperature before licking it clean and divvying up a spoonful for baby Harry who immediately settled to eat the offering. “That’s because he knows I’m the fun one.”

“Oi!” James sputters, and gives his best friend a playful scowl. “Just because you spoiled him with his first broom!”

“You know you don’t have to sit there and feed him spoon by spoon anymore.” Lily cuts in before they could get too swept up in their back and forth banter. “He’s getting better and better at holding his spoon himself and making sure it all actually gets in his mouth.”

Sirius shrugs, and smiles down at Harry who obediently opens his mouth for the next spoonful. “I know, but it’s kinda nice. Besides, the rate he’s growing he’s going to outgrow his old uncle Padfoot in no time at all.”

“Ahuh, so when are you going to finally settle down and have some kids of your own?” Lily prods, looking especially amused when he chokes on air and starts coughing while Harry laughs at him.

James laughs right along with his son.

“Bloody hell, Lily. Give a bloke a little warning.” Sirius grouses when he’s finally got his coughing under control.

Popping a small roast potato in her mouth, Lily shrugs rather nonchalantly at him. “I don’t see why, it’s a perfectly reasonable question.” She tells him, tone and expression taking on a haughty edge, though her jade eyes are still sparkling with mirth.

Sirius responds by making a face at her that has Harry laughing and trying to copy it. “Changing the subject, I paid another visit to Wormtail and told him to lay low for a bit.”

“Subtle.” Lily mutters before sighing. “It’s been, what, nearly three weeks since the last raid?”

“Yeah.” James agrees, expression turning sour. “I don’t like this. They haven’t been this quiet since the bloody war kicked off.”

“Definitely up to something.” Sirius agrees with a grimace but quickly smiles at Harry when he reaches for the spoon to feed himself. “The rest of the Order and I are all trying to keep ears to the ground to figure out what’s happening, but so far we’ve got not a hint.”

James and Lily share a look before Lily pulls a little more chicken from the carcass and hands it to Harry who readily accepts it and immediately shoves it in his mouth where his sharp little teeth make short work of it.

“I think I’ve cracked that second layer to the Fidelius, although the magic consumption is still ridiculously high. It’s likely to put the caster flat on their back with just a single casting at this rate.” She tells him, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from the worry.

“Still though, managing to add another layer on top of the standard Fidelius, which most wizards can’t make heads or tails of, so that there’s a fidelius hiding the base fidelius so the base Secret Keeper doesn’t even know that they’re hiding a secret.” Sirius says, shaking his head a little at it. “This mind-boggling stuff. Maybe that’s why the Death Eaters have gone quiet, James, they finally caught on to how bloody terrifying your wife is.”

James laughs, expression becoming unspeakably fond as he regards his wife who has turned to smirk at Sirius. “Took ‘em a while.”

Noticing that Harry has finished eating and is instead playing with the remains of his food, Sirius chuckles and pilfers James’ napkin to clean Harry up before tossing it back with a grin, laughing at the face his oldest friend makes. Then he reaches out and undoes the straps holding Harry in his high chair and plucks him out.

“Why don’t we go play for a bit and leave these boring old folks to finish their own dinner?” He asks Harry, even as he’s already making his way away from the table and through the door leading into the sitting room which was filled with Harry’s toys, having obviously been repurposed into a rumpus room of sorts.

Kneeling down, Sirius deposits baby Harry on the floor then lets himself fall back into a slouched cross-legged position. “What’ll we play with today?”

Harry is already toddling over to one side where a brightly painted chest sits open revealing a plethora of colourful blocks, a pegboard, a toy carriage and other bright bits and bobs meant to distract and entertain. 

He picks up the pegboard and dutifully carries it over to Sirius, though he loses his balance a couple of steps in front of Sirius and falls onto his hands. “Ow.” 

Sirius bites his lip to contain a laugh and stretches forward to pluck the pegboard from Harry and set it aside before coaxing the toddler to sit up again. “Alright there, mischief maker?”

He gets a frown in return that makes him smile while little Harry holds up his hands.

“Ouch?” Sirius asks quietly, reaching to take the toddlers wrists in his hands so he can turn them this way and that to inspect them. Finding no actual damage, other than a little redness he leans forward to place a kiss on each and gives Harry a little grin. “All better.”

Magic words spoken Harry turns away to grab the pegboard and drag it closer. He plucks a circle shaped piece out of it’s spot and shows it to Sirius.

“Circle.” The older man tells him dutifully, still smiling down at him.

Harry puts it back in its spot and takes out the next shape and shows it to the older man.

“Square.”

The piece goes back where it belongs and the next is plucked out.

“Triangle.” Sirius tells him when he holds it up and gets a very exaggerated nod in turn.

The piece goes back where it belongs for a half a second before Sirius reaches out and plucks out all three before shuffling them around and holding them out again.

Harry for his part looks up at Sirius, then at the block pieces but plucks the first out of his godfather's hand without a fuss and plops it back in its spot. He repeats the process with the next piece, then the next then holds out both hands, palm up and looks up at Sirius.

“All done, you’ve gotten too clever for this one. Just like your mum.” Sirius tells him with a smile before he extracts his wand and neatly transfigures the simple three piece pegboard into a larger one with nine different shapes.

Harry squeals and clumsily claps his hands at the use of magic making Sirius laugh.

“There we go, much more interesting now.” The older man says before he starts to pull out each piece and tell the bright toddler what they are.

Baby Harry is fiddling with a star shaped piece with rounded edges when Lily and James appear through the doorway, though the toddler is so engrossed with running his chubby fingers around the edges of the thing that he doesn’t seem to notice them at all.

“Might be setting the bar a bit too high there, Pad’s.” James says when he takes in the larger, more complex board and pieces.

“Nah, the old one was too easy. He’s a curious little sod, he’ll grow into it pretty quickly, I reckon.” Sirius shoots back, though his eyes are still trained on Harry. “It’ll help his fine motor skills develop.” He adds, watching a tiny hand turn the piece this way and that to get all the angles to align with the cutout.

“For how much you avoid the topic of having kids of your own, I’m almost positive you’ve read more books on parenting and childhood development than I have.” Lily teases him, then laughs at his sputtering.

“Anyway, ignoring that, I’m doing a run down to Diagon later this week. Do you lot need me to pick up anything for you?” Sirius asks, giving Lily a mock scowl.

Lily immediately nods. “Yeah, I’ve been writing up a list. It’s mostly potion bits so I can restock our supplies.”

“You could just buy your potions premade and be done with it.”

“Pfft, no way. I’d rather do the brewing myself thanks.” Lily shoots back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, gives me something else to do when Harry’s down for a sleep.”

From his spot beside Lily on one of the couches, James hums quietly. “Speaking of sleep. Might be about time for bed.” He says, giving a nod to where baby Harry is rubbing at his eyes with one hand while the other rummages through his new shaped peg pieces.

“Not surprising given how much he’s been running around today.” Lily says, expression fond.

Sirius hums. “I should head off too, they’ve got me rostered onto the graveyard shift tonight at the office, sorting through cold case files.”

“You know they’d stop punishing you with desk duty if you just gave in and accepted the new partner.” James prodded as they all started pushing to their feet.

“Piss off, I’ve already got one.” Sirius shoots back immediately, giving his mate a heavy glower before his expression settles into a grimace. “Besides, they keep trying to saddle me with greenhorns.”

“As if you’re so unbearably seasoned.” Lily teases as she kneels next to Harry and gently takes the pieces from him and slots them into their correct places.

James chuckles at that. “Auror years are like dog years. One year in the field for an auror is like five years for anyone else. Sirius and I are practically little old men in comparison.”

Lily snorts at that and Sirius rolls his eyes while he pushes himself up off the floor after pressing a kiss to the crown of Harry’s head and Lily’s cheek before he disappears from the room with James.

When Sirius didn’t immediately appear again baby Harry’s bottom lip dropped and his brows scrunch up in an easily recognisable prelude to tears.

“None of that, Mischief.” Lily says as she boops his nose to grab at his attention before picking him up. “Your uncle Padfoot will come visit just as soon as he can and he’ll play with you again. Bedtime for you I think.”

She jostles him a little on her hip before looking up at the doorway as James reappears.

“Why don’t you get him tucked into bed while I tidy up down here, then I’ll put the kettle on for a cuppa?” James offers, leaning down to place a kiss on his son's head and his wife's cheek just like Sirius had done.

Lily hums a quiet sound of approval, returning the kiss before lightly brushing strands of hair back from baby Harry’s face where it rests against her shoulder. “Make mine ginger tea, would you?”

“Queasy?”

“Mm, just a tad.” She grimaces, free hand dropping to rest low on her stomach.

James shifts to start making his way towards the kitchen. “Want me to dig you out a packet of gingersnaps?”

“Just the tea should do, ta.” Lily replies, giving him a small smile before turning and heading out the room, through the entry hall and passed one staircase then into the reception hall that housed the staircase she carefully made her way up, one hand against the banister to help keep steady.

At the top of the stairs she turned to one of two doorways, one decorated with a little nameplate pronouncing it baby Harry’s room.

Stepping into the room she carried him over to an antique looking wooden changing table and carefully set him down. “You’re being such a good boy for mum.” She says softly as she moves about changing him and getting him dressed in a set of pyjamas. “Hopefully you’ll be just as good when you have to share your things with your little brother or sister.”

Harry lies quietly while his mother works, tired green eyes blinking slowly until they fall closed.

There’s a lingering moment of darkness filled with impressions of sensations and emotions that are too vague and fleeting to latch onto before they fade.

When they open again he’s in his crib and there’s a lingering sense of panic and dread flowing through him.

He’s only crying for a little while from his lingering fright before Lily appears in the doorway, expression concerned.

“Oh, what’s wrong, Mischief?” She asks as she moves to pick him up and cuddle him close. “Have a scary dream?”

She turns to pace back and forth through the room, slowly spinning when she has to stop and turn around so she’s continuously moving while she rubs his back with the hand that's not supporting him.

It’s quiet in the house, aside from the sound of Lily’s steady movement and her quiet humming so the shout, when it’s uttered, travels easily.

“Lily run!”

Lily stops in place, jade eyes wide as she looks to the doorway, arms tightening around baby Harry.

“Take Harry and run!”

Fear tears its way across her features and a hand shoots out, wandlessly slamming the nursery door closed while sounds of furniture breaking echo up from the floor below.

She turns on the spot and there’s a disorientating moment of blurs as the world feels smashed together before she's stumbling back, both arms wrapped around Harry to keep him safe.

“Anti-apparation.” She pants out, frantically looking left and right. Her eyes settle on the window briefly before moving away, apparently deciding the drop from the second story too dangerous while holding Harry.

Harry, who’s confused tears seem to inspire a new idea.

She turns and settles Harry back into his crib before turning back to the door. Her hands come up, free of Harry’s weight and making a complicated gesture. In answer the wood of the door and its frame merge and fuse together.

She turns then and kneels next to the crib, hands reaching to take hold of the bars before one slips through to lightly brush back Harry’s black hair from his face and brush the confused tears from his cheeks.

“Harry...Harry you are loved, so so loved. Mama loves you, Dada loves you. Padfoot and Moony love you. You’re loved and no matter what, you’ll be okay.” She tells him, expression determined and eyes clear. “I love you, Mischief, my baby boy. Mama loves you. You need to _live_.”

The knob for the nursery door rattles in place though the door, fused to frame doesn’t budge but Lily ignores it and instead pulls a needle from the hem of her pants leg and jabs first herself with it then Harry, causing a fresh wave of tears.

Taking hold of his little bloody finger in her own, her eyes take on a soft glow, easily missed but for shadows of her hair around her face. “ _Percussit a plurimum, sanguis enim sanguis, pretium vitae meae, mater in filium, tenetur a juramento et magicae, orationem meam animam iurandum_.”

There’s barely a moment between the last spoken word before the door is smashed to pieces and Lily is rising to make herself a bigger shield so none of the pieces hit her son.

She spins on the spot, arms out and expression defiant as the black robed figure of the self named Dark Lord Voldemort steps into the room, wand still raised.

“Stand aside.” He orders, expression cold but otherwise empty of emotion.

“No, kill me instead and leave my son alone.” Lily shoots back.

He scowls then. “Stand aside, Lily Potter and I will let you live.”

Lily tilts her head back. “Take me instead, kill me, not Harry.”

His bone white wand jerks aloft, aimed squarely at her chest as he snarls at her. “Stand aside or I will kill you right along with your child!”

“My life for Harry’s, I won’t let you kill him, you have to kill me first.” She shouts back while her son cries behind her.

“So be it!” Voldemort snarls again and his wand deftly moves in a motion he must have done countless times. “ _Avada kedavra!_ ”

There’s a flash of sickly green light and a shout that sounds hauntingly like her crying son's name then she’s lying on the floor, limbs akimbo and a red halo of hair around her head, though her face is mercifully peaceful and not twisted up in fear or pain.

Casting a last look at her body, Voldemort dismisses it and approaches the crib to gaze down at baby Harry with his tear stained face.

“Hm, to think such a small weak thing could be my prophesied end.” He whispers to himself, red eyes narrowing. “Never.”

Almost negligently he raises his wand again, focusing on the child and sneers.

“ _Avada kedavra._ ”

It’s said as a whisper this time, rather than an angry shout, a mockery of the setting. But the moment the spell touches Harry time seems to slow, his eyes glow and he screams.

Wild magic crashes through the space between the before exploding outward.

There’s a half moment of eerie stillness in the centre of that storm of magic, time enough for Voldemort's blood red eyes to widen and the sneer to disappear from his pale face and then he’s gone, whisps of shadow and dust fluttering almost gracefully in the air.

Only baby Harry remains in the wrecked room, wailing in fright and pain, a bloody mark cut into his brow.

A deal struck.

Blood for blood.

Her life paid.

Mother for son.

Bound by oath and magic.

A prayer made from the soul.

He wails for mere moments before another figure darkens the shattered doorway, pausing there.

“ _Oh…_ ” There’s a wealth of pain in the one choked whisper, as the figure of Severus Snape stumbles forward half a step before falling, crashing, to his knees only to drag himself forward until he can reach out and drag Lily’s fallen form into his arms.

His bitter sobs of pain and denial join Harry’s as he clutches her cooling body close, rocking in place.

Eventually the sound of a motorcycle rapidly approaching sounds in the room, echoing in through the shattered windows and ruined roof. It seems to grab at Severus’ attention because he lifts his face from Lily’s hair, devastation and regret etched deeply in the pale skin.

He looks across at Harry for the first time since he had stumbled into the doorway before looking away again and down at the dead figure in his arms. Gently, as if fearing he’d harm her, he brushes the hair back from her face, black eyes staring down at her features for a long moment before he sniffs.

He sets her down, slow and steady, fingertips lightly tracing one cheek before moving away and disappearing on from the spot.

There’s a commotion elsewhere, a cry that sounds too strongly like pain before there’s thundering footsteps and the sound of a body slamming into a wall, the footsteps barely slowing.

Looking simultaneously haggard and frantic, Sirius bursts into the doorway only to freeze in it unknowingly in an eerie mimicry of the way Severus had bare minutes ago.

“Oh, no, Lily...flower, no…”

The words are whispered, gutted, though still audible over baby Harry’s crying which has not let up since the explosion of magic.

It grabs Sirius’ attention and his gray eyes dart to Harry only for him to jerk back and gasp when he catches sight of the blood covering his godson.

“Harry!” He cries and stumbles forward on wobbly looking legs, taking care to avoid disturbing Lily’s body. He reaches into the crib and pulls Harry up into his arms, squeezing him close for a moment before pulling back to assess the still bleeding wound.

He looks from the wound and to the room at large before striding two steps to the old changing table and quickly sweeps an arm over it to clear off stray bits of rubble before carefully setting Harry down. He draws his wand in quick order, clearing the blood and whispering a simple diagnostic spell all aurors are taught in training for field emergencies before wilting just a bit at whatever the spell tells him.

He stems the flow of new blood and whispers a healing charm in an obvious attempt to heal the bleeding mark only to frown when it fails to seal completely.

Sirius seems to shake it off a moment later when a thought seems to occur to him and he quickly sheaths his wand and goes about changing his godson and swaddling him up in one of the fluffy blankets that had been folded to one side. He holds him tight to his chest and whispers quiet reassurance while his own voice wobbles and tries to break and reaches out to grab the nappy bag that had been left packed and ready next to the antique rocking chair in the corner.

Slinging it over his shoulder he carefully edges around the room, around Lily, before slipping quickly out of the room and down the stairs.

The large form of Hagrid is out by Sirius’ bike, taking in the ruined house with an expression of awed horror.

As Sirius draws closer Hagrid looks up and takes in Harry’s who has finally started to quiet. “Poor tyke, here, pass him here and I’ll get him to Dumbledore.” The half-giant tells him, holding out large hands. “The rest of the Order is on the move, the Death Eaters have hit multiple homes. None of us can get word from Alice and Frank, Pettigrew, Caradoc or Edgar.”

“Shit, I need to check on Peter. He could be…” Sirius trails off, expression falling as he looks over his shoulder at Potter cottage.

“I’ll take young Harry to safety, you check on Pettigrew. Remus and Aberforth have gone to check on Alice and Frank and their boy.” Hagrid tells him as he gently eases baby Harry out of the smaller man's arms. “Harry’ll be safe in the meanwhile.”

Sirius stares down at baby Harry for a long moment before he pulls the nappy bag off his shoulder and gives it to Hagrid. “Here, it’s got fresh nappies, some clothes and a couple of toys in it. You should take my bike, it’ll be quicker. The less time Harry’s out in the open, the better.”

“Right, good luck!” Hagrid tells him and moves to straddle the bike.

Sirius winces as the metal frame groans under the weight but backs away and draws his wand. “Quickly!”

There’s a roar as the engine rumbles to life and Hagrid gives Sirius a last wave before he tears away, bike quickly ascending up into the air, then away.

Looking down at the small form bundled up in the well of one of his large arms, Hagrid sighs. “You’ll be alright, you’ll see. Everything’ll be alright.” He rumbles.

It doesn’t take much longer before baby Harry slips into an exhausted sleep, and the world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the wise words of someone somewhere: fuuuuuckkk
> 
> This one was so damn heavy to write, like jfc
> 
> Not entirely sorry if I made you cry (since art is meant to make you feel things) but sorry if it made you dwell on other losses closer to you.  
> We'll be back in the courtroom next week, but this one, this memory really deserved it's own chapter.
> 
> Let me know what you think/feel. Either in the comments or on Discord (invite link down below). We can all sit around gross sobbing, rumbling theories and plotting.


	32. Mischief Managed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial of Sirius Black concludes and a long way away, a pale snake finds his resolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Wednesday.  
> I'm so terribly sorry for the delay, we had a bit of a family emergency here that made writing like normal something of an impossible task.  
> That said, the mama duck is well into recovery post some mandatory bed rest, so worry not!
> 
> Anyway, you've all waited long enough,   
> So without further ado,   
> Here's chapter 32!   
> Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

#### 2nd of March 1995 - Ministry of Magic, Skyfall, Volstar

Coming back to the here and now was a little jarring.

The memory had been so thoroughly immersive, so vivid that it took several minutes for some of the spectators and Wizengamot to center themselves and separate their perception back onto where they actually were and not where they expected to be.

Harry immediately announced a half hour break at a gesture that had the huge doors wide open so he could call on the small squad of healers and mind-healers he had had waiting on standby in a nearby conference room to check in with everyone and administer Calming Draught where prudent.

He himself ended up wrapped squished in the middle of Sirius and Remus while they cried for what was lost. They had surprisingly not required a dose of Calming Draught, both able to respond to Fredericks quiet questions through their grief, though neither seemed intent on letting Harry go any time soon.

It was natural after loss to cling tightly to what was left. He knew that it was painful loses like these that tended to breed issues of dependency between people, the very real and intense _need_ for one or the other to be present. To be well and protected.

Not something he was ultimately concerned about with Sirius or Remus. They were both quite keen to see him alive and well, certainly. But neither would lose sleep if they went a day or more without checking in, neither’s happiness or well being had hinged on his safety and continued existence. He didn’t think sharing in his memory would change that.

Sirius had come so far in his recovery since that first time Harry had seen him, emaciated and haunted in the tattered remains of the Shrieking Shack. He had put back on a solid weight, redeveloped muscle tone from all the hard work he had been doing around the city and the yoga he did every morning and night before his meditations to help with his balance and lingering restlessness.

His therapy sessions had clearly been helping him move past the bulk of negative feelings he had hoarded over the years and used to wrap protectively around the few remaining positive ones he had left.

He had actively been taking care of himself, even while he had been running around in the background helping Harry and everyone else build their little country into one they could actually be proud of. 

Which honestly had been something Harry had worried over at first, that Sirius had gone so long without, that he had somehow forgotten to take care of himself.

But given half a chance and a little encouragement the black sheep of the Black family had picked himself up, dusted himself off and got back to it, all the while flipping the world at large the metaphoric bird for thinking that he would just roll over and take it.

He had a long history of picking himself up out of the dirt.

Sometimes Harry forgot that.

Remus was actually a little worse off, though he too pulled himself back together.

Though now his embrace was just as tight as Sirius’ had always been.

Now he knew, along with everyone else what Harry had experienced and what he had lost before he had even gained it.

They settled onto the bench Remus had been sitting on for the trial, right near the front and just behind the barrier that was charmed to prevent the sound of intelligible words from passing through into what Sirius had termed the business section of the courtroom. 

It had been Remus’ idea, the barrier, sound still passed back and forth and words that originated from the Wizengamot side of the huge room passed through crystal clear. But any spoken -- or shouted, slurred or sung for that matter -- word from the audience side of the room would pass through as an indistinct mumble of sound. 

The general idea, in these rooms where lies could not be told, was to protect the individuals that had been called forth to give testimony from the average John Smith in the crowd from shouting out whatever they wanted and derailing the whole process.

Or worse.

People like Rita Skeeter who would use the opportunity the sacred ritual gave her in order to wheedle as much gossip fodder as she could out of it and smear it around the papers for profit, or fame.

Seated on the bench that had been well engraved with hidden runes for comfort, Harry pushed the unpleasant thought away to consider how odd it already felt to be sitting, even temporarily on the other side of the wooden barrier that separated the two sections of the room.

For all that he’d only been sitting in his fancy high spot for a handful of hours it felt very different somehow, the switch between King Harry and Just Harry sitting with his godfather and friend.

“Alright, Harry?”

He blinked, pulled from his wandering thoughts by Remus’ quiet voice, his expression earnest and concerned. “What?”

“Are you alright?” The man asked again. “You wandered off a little bit there.”

“Right, sorry about that. I was just thinking how strange it feels sitting on this side.” He explained and shrugged. “It seems a bit odd to already be attached to one perspective.”

Sirius hummed quietly and cast a look around the room where everyone else was settling down, having managed to pull themselves back together. “Technically, you’ve been in here several times before today's session. When you were setting up for the ritual and directing Jack and ol’ Matthew how to set up all the furnishings. Helping the elves plant all this greenery. You spent a lot of time managing everything from that side of the room.”

“I suppose.” Harry hedged, then remembered something. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something actually. Why did everyone call me ‘Mischief’ as a baby?”

Both men broke into grins, despite the recent sadness, buoyed by whatever memory the question had evoked.

“Now that is a very ‘Marauder’ story.” Remus told him, one hand scratching absently at his mustache.

Sirius nodded, then shifted a little so he could lean down and put himself at his godson’s shorter eye height. “When you were born, we were all there at the house to greet you and for added protection since the Fidelius wasn’t up yet and obviously neither James or Lily would be in any state to fight back if the Death Eaters found them…”

“Anyway,” Remus cut in, shoulders drooped a little at the mention of the Death Eaters. “We were all camped out in the sitting room, ready to jump up and save the day, either from that lot or from all your mothers accidental magic.”

“Right, her magic was going bonkers, absolutely mad, we kept having to put out fires from these little lightning strikes that kept dancing round the house. It even rained in the kitchen.” Sirius added on excitedly, grin stretched ear to ear.

“The walls kept switching colours and Peter had to sit on the rug to keep it from flying off.” Remus told him, chuckling at the memory despite the mention of their traitorous former friend. “The telly flat exploded, scared the devil out of the lot of us, we all jumped so high. Sirius nearly levitated for a moment.”

Sirius barked a happy laugh. “I swear I did, though I’m not sure it was me that did it. Anyway, we were all there and it was hours later and we were all exhausted from keeping the rampant magic contained when your father comes stumbling into the room, little sparks of lightning shooting off his glasses, hair on end like you wouldn’t believe and looking like he’s gone ten rounds with a herd of angry hippogryphs.”

The werewolf nodded, his expression turned more fond. “He had you wrapped up in his arms, already swaddled in that tiny Appleby Arrows baby blanket he had found somewhere after Lily forbade Chudley Cannons or Puddlemere United stuff in the house after he tried to decorate your nursery with...”

“You were so tiny.” Sirius said softly. “And the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. But James, the wanker, he looks at us, wrecked and soaked from magic indoor rain and he grins at us and says-”

“He says-”

“Mischief managed!” They both announced in a merry shout, which of course caused more than a couple people to give their little group odd looks with eyebrows raised.

“You’re joking?” Harry asked, glowing eyes wide. “Like with the map?”

“No joke.” Sirius assured him, practically glowing with mirth.

Remus chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Your mother wasn’t impressed with the nickname we had all decided to christen you with, insisted on calling you by name. Right up until you got a bit of strength up and started zooming around the house.”

“Faster than a snitch and twice as cheeky. Even Lily started calling you Mischief, said she seemed to gravitate mischief makers to her.” Sirius told him with a little huff of laughter.

“Not much has changed there. Except instead of turning the lamp table over, it’s the rest of the world he’s setting on its head.” Remus chuckled.

“Even surrounds himself with mischief makers.” Sirius agreed with a nod.

Harry frowned a little at that. “Hermione’s not like that.”

The older animagus barked a laugh. “No? She’s not the same witch that finagled her way into time warping artefact so she could do what she wanted. One of those things breaking the rules for its use and the laws of Wizarding Great Britain by aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive?”

“Oh the time she went against against teachers wishes to help you and Ronald through that labyrinth of tasks they’d set up in your first year?” Remus added, head bowed a little as one eyebrow rose.

The young king huffed and looked away from the amused looks. “Alright, point made.”

Both men chuckled at his easy surrender and they fell into a silence while they sat together, the sadness of earlier comfortably set aside to be gradually dealt with over time in safer, more private spaces where they would have ample time and room to explore the thoughts underneath the feelings.

But in the here and now they were alright, all three of them.

Eventually the small break ran out and without prompting everyone was finding their way back to their selected seats, Sirius offering Remus a pat on the shoulder before moving back to his own spot.

Stepping up into his fancy place in the business side of the room, Harry settled in and swept his eyes over the people in the room, doing a quick check of faces against his memory to determine if anyone was missing.

Then finding everyone present and accounted for he closes the heavy looking doors.

In comparison to the other memories that had been reviewed previous the last, the memories of Pettigrew alive and well and escaping despite best efforts, his effortless animagus transformation mid-run and the swarming dementors and the late Minister Fudge’s disregard of their attempts to set the record straight and bring the injustice to light. All of it left a grumble in the gathered. Frustration and dissatisfaction where there had been horror and sorrow.

When time came for the Wizengamot to deliberate on the evidence that had been provided Harry sat himself to one side of the large meeting room that had of course been magically expanded to fit a group meeting of the full Wizegamot when the time came in the future that all those seats were filled.

He had intended to keep out of it, considered himself biased and therefore shouldn’t take part in the discussion, regardless of how readily he would respect any decisions they came to.

It wasn’t long before they told him they had come to one, though he hadn’t honestly expected there to be a very long one. Both the fact that it was impossible to lie in the High Court courtrooms and the immersive viewing of the memories had, as Sirius had hoped and insisted, driven home his innocence beyond any reasonable doubt.

Honestly, Harry was just sorry so many people had had to experience that same horror and pain they had.

But he would trust each of them to know themselves and if that failed, he had faith in the system he had been building to make sure mental and emotional health wasn’t something that was swept under the rug like a dirty secret.

People, he was learning, were terribly complex organisms regardless of what race or upbringing they had. Capable of great highs and lows, joys and sorrows. It was a discredit to each person to ignore any part of that.

They filtered back into the courtroom proper and retook their seats with little fuss or chatter.

“We meet in this time, the second day of March in the year nineteen-ninety-five, within this courtroom to review the matter of Lord Sirius Orion Black the Third of his name, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” He announced then looked to the side.

Purevein, one of the goblins that had been selected by their king to represent the goblins as a whole upon the Wizengamot climbed back to his feet, having been selected as their spokesperson. “Aye, upon the review of available evidence and testimony presented, this judicial body found no guilt of the crimes he was charged with by the auror forces of Wizarding Great Britain.”

“Then you declare him innocent of all alleged crimes?” Harry repeated, not a little vindictively, so that in future the people that reviewed the memories of this trial would have no choice but to hear.

“We the Wizengamot of Volstar, do so find Lord Sirius Orion Back, third of his name, innocent of all charges.” Purevein reiterated, a certain twinkle in his dark eyes giving away that he just had an inkling on where Harry’s mind had gone.

There was a happy murmur of sound from the audience side of the magic barrier that separated the two halves of the room, not so clear enough as to give way to words, but enough that they could judge from the tone and the satisfied expressions of their audience that the people were pleased with the verdict.

“Wonderful.” Harry said with a smile, allowing himself to relax a little from his rigid posture. “Now that that’s settled I have two last items of business before we finish here.”

Assured that he had the attention of the room again Harry leaned forward, letting his arms cross on his little hidden desk. “I know how terribly new this all is, the very first trial of our fledgling nation. However, going forward I’d like to assure you all that while some elements will be different to this one we all experienced today. Most notably the spell that was used to share the memories we all re-lived.”

He took in the solemn but riveted attention before pressing onward. “While the aforementioned spell was originally created for sharing moments of joy among family members such as a child's first steps or words, weddings or the like, as we all experienced today it can quite easily share the less pleasant emotions. As such its use will not be a common occurrence nor part of standard procedure. Its inclusion today was approved on the merit that it would aid a defendant with little in the way of available evidence to help establish intent and disprove motive.

“There are many potential cases that this spell could be approved for use, however there are even more, which I’m sure you can all understand where its use will be strictly forbidden. First and foremost Volstar exists as a welfare state, as such the health, safety and overall well being of its people is the primary concern of this government.”

He pushed himself to his feet and made his way down to stand in front of Sirius.

“And now the final piece of business.” He announced and smiled down at his godfather whose head was cocked to one side, expression perplexed. “Sirius Orion Black, as sovereign of these lands, by power, will and word I welcome you. I offer you who has stood at my back and tried valiantly to protect me, a home here as a rightful citizen of these lands. I ratify the nobility of your House and offer to you the gift of land in which to settle upon.”

It was all Harry could do not to burst into laughter, seeing the other look so absolutely gobsmacked. Harry knew the other had expected a quiet thing, when it came to his finally settling down, if he ever did. A soft word spoken in Harry’s office, a little paperwork and then he’d be on his merry way.

He certainly hadn’t seemed to expect Harry to welcome him so publicly, to make the offer official in a way that would absolutely make the rounds back to Britain and the people that had snubbed him or worse back there.

Harry wanted him there, welcomed him into the arms of the safety he had been building, wanted the world to know.

“Do you accept?” Harry asked, raising a black eyebrow when the other was silent a touch too long, clearly lost in his shock.

“I-yeah.” Sirius stammered, blinking rapidly. “I mean, yes, I’d be honoured.”

The young king chuckled and held out a hand. “Then welcome home, Sirius.”

The older man reached for the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up out of his seat. “So...what now then?” He asked, rubbing a hand through his hair in an absent show of unease.

“Now?” Harry parroted. “Now I close the session and see how everyone feels about a picnic in the fields to celebrate.”

Sirius laughed and gave Harry’s shoulder a nudge. “Now that’s an idea I can get behind.”

“Somehow I thought you might.” Harry teased as he turned his attention to the side of the room where Percy was still sitting at his little desk waiting for his closing statement. “Then at this time, and in this place. I, Harry, sovereign and protector of these lands, call this court session to a close.”

The quiet murmur of conversation started up again as everyone climbed to their feet with the intention of going back to their regular day.

Sirius wondered back over to chat with Remus, no doubt to make plans for their lunch picnic while Harry strode over to Percy as the older teen went about packing up the tools he had been using into their appropriate storage spaces in his desk.

“Well, Percy, how do you feel about your first court session?” He asked the ginger.

Percy blinked up at Harry before straightening. “Well I think, your majesty, though quite a bit...it was much more intense in some ways than the other trials or conferences I’ve worked thus far.”

Harry nodded, taking the observation on board. “That’s not too surprising, all things considered. But please feel free to still call me Harry when we’re talking informally like this.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly, the difference in our status is…”

“Less of a concern if you consider that I’ve considered the Weasley family my friends as a whole since I was eleven years old. Granted that’s not that long ago, but we’ve had breakfast together several times, in pyjamas.” Harry reminded him with a small smile.

The older teens cheeks reddened slightly at the reminder and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, if that’s what you’d like then I’ll do my best to honour your wishes.”

Feeling a little bad for being so amused by the other's discomfort, Harry shifted the conversation onto other topics. “How are you settling in overall, Remus mentioned that you arrived about a week ago?”

“Oh, yes. Very well, I think.” Percy assured him, though his expression was one of honest surprise. “I had enough savings to acquire a small flat, though I admit it’s rather...well...more than I was expecting for the price.” He admitted.

Harry nodded. “That’s a pretty common reaction, all’s said. You’ll find that our minimum standards for living are rather different than a lot of places you’ll visit. A lot of thought went into making sure each of our citizens got the best support we could give them to do well.”

“Honestly I can’t imagine the sort of costs involved with it all.” The older teen admitted, colourful brows drawing down. “I remember the few budget meetings I served as notary for during my short time with the British Ministry, and it all seemed so terribly expensive to...well, to do anything I suppose.”

The young king inclined his head at that. “Please understand that I’m not saying this to be insulting or to disparage the hard work of its people, but I think you’ll find a large part of the reason that the British Ministry has struggled to find the resources to invest into its infrastructure, research or expansion is because of the British Ministry. I know you keep up with the news so you’ve been following the mess that has been coming to light.”

“Yes, I-I honestly don’t know how to feel about it all.” Percy admitted, eyes dropping to study his hands. “I had built up this imagine in my head, the noble Ministry trying valiantly to bring order to the chaos of the world. An important job for important people.”

“You feel betrayed.” Harry realised, reading the others posture and expression.

“I...yes, I suppose that’s the best way to sum it up. It’s why I applied for immigration here, you know. A fresh start and all that.” Percy told him, shrugging just slightly, like an old habit he had tried to teach himself not to do.

Harry nodded. “Well you’ll certainly get that. As to your earlier query, the cost of setting up and maintaining our minimum standards is relatively small since we don’t have to worry about things like fitting into pre-existing spaces since we’re building everything new in open grassland. We also don’t have to worry about things like zoning in regards to making sure someone non-magical doesn’t come into ownership of magical property. Which also means we can use magic as much as we want or need in the construction and maintenance of each building or public space. Expansion enchantments, temperature regulating charms, waste and water management. We don’t need to rely on non-magical alternatives for fear of someone muggle wandering around and asking questions.” Harry explained, watching intently as the older teen considered each point.

“So that’s why I could buy a three bedroom flat with a study, kitchen and its own laundry for the same price I would have expected to pay for a one bedroom flat with a kitchenette in Diagon Alley or Horizont Alley.” The ginger surmised, fingers absentmindedly tapping on his desk. “I had thought the requirement on finances for the move had seemed rather steep but given the sort of dwelling it affords people while allowing a hefty amount left over for daily expenses and the like.”

“That was the plan we had in mind. We didn’t want people to have any false expectations about whether they would be able to find a roof to put over their heads or food in their bellies. If someone meets the requirements they’ve automatically financially secure in their ability to secure housing, meals and medical expenses if required. That’s not to say that our government isn’t willing to work with people who can’t meet those requirements to see if some sort of arrangement can’t be made, but ideally we want our newest citizens to hit the ground running.”

Percy’s gaze shifted from his hands to study Harry a moment before he smiled, a small stilted thing, but more than Harry could ever recall seeing from the older teen. “I think that’s quite noble.”

“We try.” Harry responded with a small shrug and a smile in return.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Huddled behind the curtains of his Hogwarts bed, Draco stared down at the letter in his hands.

It was his own writing, so he knew each word, every question.

Still, he could admit, even just to himself that he was perhaps experiencing just a smidgen of trepidation.

The letter was still addressed to HRH Harry James Hyperion of House Potter. Still sealed in wax and noted in even curling letters, his name and status of Heir of House Malfoy on the back.

It’s contents still contained more honest, though hedged, questions than he could remember posing to anyone since he had started learning about history at his fathers knee.

Though this was the first time he had opted to take such potentially life changing first steps without seeking out the council of his father though. Hadn’t breathed a word that he was even considering reaching out to Potter to potentially start inroads with the other teen that had previously been the bane of his life.

That title had recently gone to Zacharia Smith, the monumental arse.

But the pretentious ass of Hufflepuff aside, Draco had had ample chance to do a lot of thinking over the past month or so since the second tasks dramatics.

A lot of time to think about wandering trolls and disappearing teachers.

About rampaging basilisks and grown men with a proclivity for memory charms and a desire for everyone, even small children to love and fawn over him.

To think about escaped convicts that may have been innocent all along and hordes of dementors swarming a school full of children with no way to defend themselves against them should they turn.

About ancient tournaments that pit children against each other with little care if they were snuffing out a potentially bright future that would have bolstered and helped their world flourish. And Death Eaters masquerading as veteran aurors, as teachers casting unforgivables upon children under the guise of learning.

Mostly though it was that last point that had stuck with him.

The resurgence of Death Eater activity, first at the Quidditch World Cup, now here in the heart of Hogwarts, a place frequently touted as the safest in Britain.

He knew his father was keeping close council on the matter, based at least upon the terseness of his letters. His mothers letters had read as normal on the surface, but knowing her as well as he did, learning the workings of society from her lap, Draco knew she was less than pleased at best or downright worried at worst.

Considering what it had nearly cost their family the last time _He_ was in power and the Death Eaters had been out in force. The last time they had fallen.

And oddly Draco didn’t doubt that they would fall again after what he had seen first hand from Potter.

What he had _felt_.

He had always been a touch magic sensitive, but he hadn’t needed it since _everyone_ had felt the huge force of magic that had come up when Potter had been dealing with the Questing Beast. The sheer magnitude and depth of power had been staggering.

Seeing him from Diggory’s perspective, body wreathed in a glow of power and eyes burning green flames in the midst of it all had caused such a visceral reaction it was honestly mind numbing.

So he had pondered and weighed the weight of his own burgeoning beliefs, his fathers expectations, his mothers wishes and the certainty that had come with the weight of that power that had been felt so purely hundreds of meters, thousands of meters away from where he and the rest of the spectators were seated.

He had pondered it all, quiet as the grave beside the common room fireplace, hidden behind bed curtains and around dark forgotten dungeon halls until he had only one unavoidable conclusion.

The world was changing.

And it would leave them behind at best, or crush them at worst if they didn’t change with it.

Mind made, Draco tucked the letter under his pillow with the intention of sending it off hidden amongst the rest of his weekly mail in the morning.

Decided at last he wriggled his way under thick blankets spelled even warmer and dimmed his wand. Content to dream about dancing dragons and the taste of storms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penny for your thoughts, dear readers?  
> (Disclaimer: Author owns no actual pennies, only madness.)
> 
> As normal, feel free to let me know what you think either here or on the Metalduck Garden Discord server (link found below) and I'll get back to you ASAP. :)  
> Normal posting schedule should resume without issue, so chapter 33 should be completed and released five days from now, universe willing. If anything does come up, the discord server will very likely at least get a heads-up (though I flaked on that this time in the panic, my bad guys!)
> 
> Anyway, until next week! TTFN


	33. Shrieking Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curious letter arrives for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Tuesday (I missed Monday by an hour and a half, my bad. It took me a little bit longer than I to adjust to the shifted timing of last weeks drama fallout.)
> 
> Sorry for the slight delay, I had a little trouble getting this chapter to behave, but we're done now so we can keep moving forward setting up dominoes.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, Happy Reading!

#### 6th March 1995 - The Great Library, Skyfall, Volstar

There was something fundamentally wonderful, Harry thought, about actually being part of the construction team rather than always being in the background working on designs, on law and policy and building political relations with other countries.

It was slightly more familiar, something he could draw parallels to between the chores of his old life.

It was hands on, using his own strength of arms or magic under the hot sun to complete a task. For all the other things he did used his mind or the charisma that Remus and Sirius both swore he had -- which Harry was relatively sure just wasn’t true -- they felt fundamentally different.

Like at its core it was something completely different, even though all of them served the same purpose.

To build something.

To fill an empty space and ease a need.

Guiding his magic to settle a large section of wall into place so it could be fused into place.

For all he was largely the ‘muscle’ at the moment, since he was one of only a handful of their settlers with the magical strength required to move about the larger than normal construction pieces, he was fairly certain that he preferred it over sitting behind his desk all day.

The whole process felt infinitely more interesting to him.

Clearing out large blocks of dirt, clay or stone to make basement levels and transfiguring or using alchemy to transform it into worked resources. Tile, paving stone, earthenware or bricks.

Building in foundational support and fusing large beams together so they would be seamlessly joined and therefore stronger for it. Using permanent sticking charms along with traditional joinery methods that been passed on as a gift to Harry from Akihito -- to aid in the building a long lasting and peaceful home, he had said -- each piece of wood and stone slotted and fit together in a manner that was far stronger and seamlessly than they could have achieved with screws and nails.

Pieces of a puzzle coming together to form new homes and now the most ambitious construction project yet.

As of that morning only half of the Great Library’s base structures frame was in place. On one hand that seemed like brilliant progress considering it had only just begun construction. On the other though, given the sheer scale that would be the building’s final shape, it was nowhere near as impressive.

Even with the benefit of magic and the near constant fair weather the island sported it was still going to take a significant amount of time to finish building the Library’s shell.

It would take twice as long again to do all the rituals -- some of which would require some particularly exact timing -- and enchantments. Not to mention all the very exact carving of runes, most of which could not be done before all the various pieces were in their final resting places.

It was oddly soothing in a way, Harry thought, knowing he had a project that would take a while to see through to completion.

It didn’t halfway feel sometimes like the only things that stuck around were the political bits and bobs or the messes he kept having to sidestep. Having something that would be important for their future but not somehow weighed down by politics was in all honesty a source of relief.

He was moving the next large section of wall through the air, well out of the way of unsuspecting heads when Remus sidled up next to him, a neatly folded envelope in hand.

“A letter arrived for you just now.” The older man informed him in an even tone.

One black brow arched as Harry looked across at him. He received a wealth of mail almost every day without fail, from various governments mostly, but also from friends and acquaintances and this or that person trying to curry favour for themselves.

So a letter arriving was generally not worth a personal trip out of the office with said letter while Harry was at work.

“Oh?”

“Mm, from one Draco Malfoy.” The werewolf stated, rocking a little on the balls of his feet.

Without meaning to, Harry lost his grip on the large wall piece he had been levitating which caused several worried shouts to echo around the area.

“Oi!” Mr Bolder shouted from across the way. “Watch what you’re doing!”

“Sorry!” Harry shouted back as he stabilized his hold before turning his attention partially to Remus while the rest remained firmly on task. “Malfoy wrote to me?”

“Apparently so.” The older man stated, lifting the envelope he was holding for emphasis.

Harry frowned. “What does he want?”

“Haven’t a clue. Given who it’s from I thought it might be a personal letter and I try not to read those, you know.” Remus reminded him with a little smile that was somehow both patient and amused.

Harry huffed at him, turning glowing green eyes back to the section of wall as he started to lower it carefully into place. “You know that’s not what I meant. The last time I saw him was just after the second task and he looked like someone had made him swallow boulders.”

“Interesting mental image, that.”

The young king huffed and focused on his task long enough to see the section of wall melded seamlessly with the one beside it and the foundation before signaling to Mr. Bolder that he would need a few moments.

The old builder waved him off and turned away to start shouting orders at his apprentices and the other workers, setting them to work on other tasks in the meanwhile.

Turning back to his werewolf aide Harry took the letter when offered and checked it for charms. Finding only a minor anti-tampering charm, Harry raised a brow. “It came in clean?”

“No charms or enchantments save the tamper charm.” Remus dutifully informed him.

Humming quietly Harry carefully broke the seal and pulled the letter from the envelope.

Remus watched quietly as he read, then as he frowned, conjured a chair out of nothing and sat down to keep reading. It must be interesting, Remus reasoned if the teen was actually taking the time to read it slowly instead of simply glancing at it to absorb the words and moving on.

When finally Harry lowered the letter after what seemed his third re-read of it, he was frowning still but seemed more thoughtful than angry.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Remus asked, moving to crouch in the teens line of sight.

“He’s asking for political asylum.”

“Mr. Malfoy is?” Remus queried.

Harry nodded, posture slumped back in his chair and his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. He’s of the opinion from overhearing his parents that the Death Eater attack on the World Cup won’t be an isolated incident. He’s also stated that he doesn’t believe the British Ministry or Hogwarts has the ability to protect him and keep him from being dragged into the eventual mess.”

“Given the messes he’s seen lately, I’m not sure I could blame him.” The older man remarked before tilting his head to one side. “What are you going to do?”

The teen sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. He’s applying to the crown directly rather than our Ministry so it’s up to me to work it out, but before I make any sort of decision I need to know if it’s a legitimate plea.”

“And if it is?”

“I can’t say no just because I think he’s an arse.”

Remus cocked his head as he considered that. “Technically, you can.”

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t.” Harry grumbled then sighed, long and annoyed. “Besides, maybe being here away from all that will help him learn to be a better person. I don’t know.”

They sat in silence for a good while, quietly considering the problem that Draco Malfoy seemed intent to make of himself.

Eventually though Harry sighed. “I’ll need to arrange for a meeting with him, though since he’s still underage he’ll need someone to be present. Though since it can’t be his parents since he’s asking for asylum from his parents as well, that’ll have to be his Head of House and the Headmaster.”

“I can write a letter and make a request for time and space for the meeting before the third task at the end of the month?” Remus offered, taking back the letter as it was handed to him.

Harry nodded. “That should do, the letter doesn’t mention a time frame so I can assume it’s defaulted to as soon as possible.” He said before pushing himself to his feet and vanishing the chair. “On the up side it’ll be a good opportunity to try out the mobile version of the truth curse.”

Remus’ brows both rose and he blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realise you had figured that out. You were still struggling with it the last time we spoke about it.”

“I figured it out last night when I went to bed.” Harry informed him with a half-hearted shrug. “Rather than casting and removing the ritual effects, or trying to draw up a barrier in the space, I’ll need to make a movable object like a statue the focus of the aura then at the same time as the ritual is being imbued into the statue, have a container for the statue imbued with the counter.”

“So when the statue is in the container it effectively has no effect to speak of.” The werewolf noted, bobbing his head as he followed the thought along.

Harry inclined his head, glowing eyes shifting to follow the moments of the rest of the construction team. “I’ll get to work on that when I’m finished here, if you could arrange the meeting. Preferably before the third task. I get the feeling that I’ll not want to stick around too long afterward.”

Sighing softly Remus reached out and gave the younger male’s shoulder a firm squeeze before turning on heel to make his way back to their shared office.

The sooner done, the sooner he could get back to poking fun at Sirius for his rather dubious plans for the new Black manor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#### 12th March 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland

Sitting down across from Draco Malfoy was most assuredly a strange feeling.

Resting on the table between them was the statue Harry had carved from crystal with his magic, working a solid block into twining branches that weaved in and out of each other. For the moment it was resting shrouded in its box, a deceptively simple looking form.

To the side of the room sat Percy Weasley at a little desk that had been conjured for him. He had an array of parchment and quills laid out around him, already making notes as required while they explained the procedure of the interview.

The headmaster was seated at his desk with a cup of tea, a small pile of nibbles and a patiently curious expression on his face that was definitely not annoying at all.

Severus Snape sat beside Draco at the table, face caught somewhere between impassive and scowling.

In a twist that had been a bit of a surprise to Harry, it turned out that the potions professor was also Malfoy’s godfather, which meant that he had an even stronger case when it came to supporting Draco’s plea for asylum.

Though for all that their relationship had been prickly at best since Harry’s first meeting with the man, the potions master didn’t seem overly inclined to continued hostilities during the meeting.

It may have had something to do with the quiet -- but not nearly quiet enough -- comment from the slightly subdued headmaster, informing Harry that he had reviewed the trial information that had been forwarded to the ICW and had taken the liberty of sharing his memory of it with a few noteworthy people.

The fact that he said this while his not quite twinkling blue eyes had been focused on Snape’s somewhat hunched back was probably as far from subtle as he could have been without blatantly stating that he had shared them with Severus out loud.

“For the record, you understand once the statue is uncovered there will be a powerful force compelling truth from everyone within its range of effect. You will be unable to lie, even to yourself in the quiet of your own mind while you are under its influence and that long held untruths will be overturned if you think on them during this time.” Frederick asked, having accompanied Harry to make sure there would be a healer that was familiar with the aura’s effects on hand while it was in use.

“I do.” Draco muttered, looking very much like he had taken a bite of sour lemon.

“And if Mr. Malfoy should become distressed during the interview thanks to these effects?” Professor Snape asked, dark eyes moving from the covered statue, to Healer Graves then to Harry and back.

Harry leaned forward in his seat, letting his arms rest on the table. “If any of us require it, the keyword to trigger the statues’ shielding is ‘Repose’ accompanied by a small surge of magic. The enchantments in the shielding of this particular item allow that anyone within its area of effect can cease the interview and cancel out the effects of the artefact.”

Beside him Frederick nodded. “I will have a general monitoring charm running that will allow me to monitor the heart rate of each person in the room. If I detect that any individual, Mr. Malfoy or otherwise is beginning to panic, I will trigger the shielding myself. I have a supply of Calming Draught on hand along with a few other mood stabilizing tinctures and will administer them if required.”

“I would like to inspect your stock before we begin.” Snape told the other man.

“Certainly.” Frederick replied easily and reached for the pouch he had resting beside his chair.

In quick succession several phials were set out in a neat line on the table before being plucked up by the potions master and studied.

Eventually he set the last down and inclined his head. “Each is satisfactory.” He stated before turning just slightly to give his godson a nod.

“You each have a copy of the list of questions I will be asking during the session, which you both agreed with beforehand. In addition I have here a sheet of parchment and quill, if an answer requires additional information or confirmation it will be written down and presented to you non-verbally so that you both can choose whether to answer or not without being compelled to do so by the statue.” Harry explained, both for their benefit and for the record.

“And if we should have questions we wish to ask of you?” Snape asked, settling his dark piercing gaze to meet Harry’s bright glowing one. “Will you deign to allow them?”

“I will. I understand how invasive this sort of questioning can feel, in the interest of fairness and helping Mr. Malfoy to feel like he’s on something closer to even ground, I will answer any questions either of you put to me as completely as I can. However, I will veto any question that I believe could directly endanger my people.” Harry replied, meeting his focus squarely before turning to regard Draco.

The pale teen inclined his head stiffly in response.

Harry nodded and cast a glance to Percy to check if he was ready and got a quick nod in response.

Reaching forward, Harry lightly placed a fingertip on a swirling design on the top of the casing and channeled a little of his magic to it. “ _Sincerum et verum_.” He whispered before drawing his hand away.

They watched as the thing glowed briefly before the casing started to separate into pieces that revolved around each other, twisting in patterns as if each piece was a lock in its own right that needed to be positioned just so to unravel.

When it was finally still the casing was resting beneath the twisting branch like crystal statue in a star pattern and the statue itself was glowing gently.

“Please state your name and intention for the record.” Harry requested, eyes focused on Draco who was busy staring at the statue.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, I want safety away from the Dark Lord and his followers.” Draco announced dutifully.

“Have you, to the best of your knowledge, ever committed a crime that upon trial could result in a prison sentence?” 

“No.”

Cocking his head to one side Harry regarded the other teen. “Do you harbour any ill intent towards the government or peoples of Volstar?”

“No.” Draco replied steadily.

“Do you understand that as a minor, you will be expected to continue your education as part of your condition for asylum?” Harry queried.

“Yes.”

“Do you understand that as one of the individuals that hold mastery in many of the topics you will be studying, you will be learning from me, myself?” The young king asked.

Though the question was one of the preapproved ones that had been agreed upon well in advance, but even still both Slytherins seemed shocked to hear him speak it while under the effects of the statue.

“I...yes. I understand.” Draco replied, his expression turning both confused and thoughtful as they regarded Harry from across the table.

“Do you understand that as a minor you will be placed under the care of your cousin, Lord Sirius Black during your stay?”

“I do.” Draco affirmed quietly, though he did frown at whatever thought popped into his head.

“I would like to officially express my doubts as to Black’s state of mind and ability to properly protect and raise a kneazle, much less a child.” Professor Snape cut in, scowling across the table.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing despite the tenseness of the situation.

It was a little amazing to him that Sirius had just the day before told Harry that Snape would say something similar. And similar in that Snape’s comment was almost verbatim to what Sirius had told Harry he would say.

Getting himself under control Harry turned his attention toward the potion master. “As part of our own preparations to ensure Mr. Malfoy would receive the care required, Lord Black was interviewed extensively and evaluated for his suitability. Everything from his current mental state to his resources was put under scrutiny and he was interviewed while under the effects of the truth curse.” Harry told him.

He paused and reached into his enchanted pocket and withdrew a red spherical crystal roughly the size of a walnut and held it out to Snape.

“This crystal contains the memories of all information and interviews gathered on the subject of Lord Sirius Black’s suitability to act as primary carer for Mr. Malfoy. He has given explicit permission for that information to be shared with you both to allay any concerns you may have regarding his ability to care for and protect Mr. Malfoy.” Harry explained. “To view the information you only need to make contact with the crystal and will it.”

Snape eyed Harry for a long moment before he reached across the distance and took the crystal from the teens outstretched palm and let it rest in his own within easy reach of Draco so it could be viewed by them both.

When he noticed the way their eyes had glazed, telling him they were both focused on the information running through their minds, Harry cast a look towards Percy who was waiting patiently. “Please note for the records that both Master Snape and his godson, Mr. Malfoy have chosen to review the offered evidence.”

Percy’s bright head bobbed as he set to follow the instruction and Harry turned back to Snape and Malfoy as their awareness returned to the present.

The potions professor was scowling down at the red crystal in the palm of his open hand. “For all that you say the man you interviewed was Sirius Black, he’s almost unrecognisable from the man I knew. Even having last seen him in person less than a full year ago.”

Harry nodded at that and reached for the crystal when it was held out to him. “As mentioned in the interview, since seeking asylum from Volstar, Lord Black has sought out intensive physical and mental healing in order to recover from a tremendous amount of sustained trauma that dates as far back as his early childhood. The man you are most familiar with was a product of that systemic trauma and the comparative relatively mild mental instability of the House of Black.”

Healer Graves cut in beside Harry. “In order to qualify he was tested extensively. He has healed sufficiently to pass qualification as a foster carer. Both mentally and physically. Had he not, Mr. Malfoy would have been deemed a ward of the crown if his request for asylum be granted.”

“I want to meet with him in person to ascertain for myself his ability to care for my godson.” Snape insisted, dark eyes fixed on Harry.

“Brief visitation to Volstar can be granted to you under two conditions.” Harry replied, meeting his gaze steadily.

“Being?”

“That you make oaths to cause no harm during your visit and that twisted thing on your arm is removed.”

It was very slight, the briefest twitch of an eyelid in reaction to Harry’s demands.

“I beg your pardon?” Came the quiet response.

“I’m much more sensitive to the feeling of magic than I used to be, Master Snape. I can feel the aura it radiates, especially at such close distances. I can also feel the underlying malevolence in whatever that thing on your arm is and under no circumstances may it appear anywhere within my country’s borders.” Harry told him, knowing his expression had settled into the calm determination that had been more common of late when he was sharing his stance on any number of topics with others.

Snape frowned. “It can be removed.” He said then blinked, for once visibly surprised. “I meant to say that it could not be removed.”

“The fact that you were not able to means that it was a lie.” Harry said, shifting to sit a little straighter in his seat.

“Unintentional.” The dark man quickly stated. “It is what I was led to believe.”

Harry nodded. “Accepted, you hold no blame for lies told to you. I would like to request that you show it to me so I can study its threads.”

The potions professor stared across the table at him for a long quiet moment before his gaze turned to Draco before he breathed out slowly and pushed back his robes and the sleeves of his dark jacket and white shirt.

Harry took a quick look at it, just enough to before a gesture at his quill set it to quickly writing several questions before the parchment slid across the table to rest in front of Snape.

The man's eyes scanned over the questions before he sneered at Harry. “Trying to save me now, King Potter?”

“As I’ve never particularly considered you to be a man in need of saving, the answer to your question is ‘No’. However, depending on the answer to those questions, I may extend the offer of asylum to you yourself as well as your godson.” Harry replied calmly, a little surprised he didn’t feel as defensive of the others' tone and manner as he knew he would have been even a few months ago. “We did consider that the separation from his parents would be easier on Mr. Malfoy if he had another familiar face he felt he could trust.”

The potion master opened his mouth as if to retort before he stopped and instead let his attention settle on Draco for a long moment, quietly weighing his own thoughts before he sighed. “Ask your questions.”

It was that moment precisely that Harry realised just how much the jaded man cared for his godson. How much he was willing to endure and sacrifice for him and his continued well being.

The willingness to go into the unknown, to a place built by people that had been the cause of some of his childhood traumas or were active reminders of those traumas. The willingness to jump into pain and uncertainty, just to make sure his godson wouldn’t feel alone.

It made Harry think rather intensely of Sirius and his own willingness to jump into the deep end of Harry’s mad run away plan all those months ago.

Pushing past the thought he set half his attention to unravelling the dark mark emblazoned on the sallow skin before him while the rest started in on his questions.

“Have you knowingly performed an act that could, upon facing trial, result in a prison sentence?”

“Yes.”

“Did you perform this act with the knowledge that failure to do so would result, with certainty, in severe punishment that would necessitate medical care to treat?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any intent to perform these acts upon any of the peoples of Volstar?” Harry asked as he traced the different threads of magic in the others’ cursed mark.

“I do not.” The man answered succinctly.

“If you are granted asylum by the crown of Volstar, will you work against its interests and attempt to divulge information about its people, government or defenses to anyone wishing ill upon them?” Harry asked.

“I have no such intention.” The potion master replied.

“Will you, Severus Snape, during your time in Volstar territory, respect and adhere to its laws to the best of your ability?” Harry asked, taking his eyes momentarily off the threads of magic he was carefully pulling apart to examine.

“I will.”

Turning his glowing eyes away from Snape, Harry regarded Draco, who had been watching the glowing threads of magic that had appeared from his godfather's mark, with the same intensity. “Will you, Draco Malfoy, during your time in Volstar territory, respect and adhere to its laws to the best of your ability?”

The pale teen blinked, obviously surprised to find himself being questioned again so soon. “Ah-Yes, I will.” He quickly replied.

“You both understand that you will be required to makes oaths to that effect due to your past association with individuals that have held an adversarial stance towards some of Volstar’s people?” Harry asked them both and received two quiet but firm agreements in return.

They sank into silence for several minutes as Harry worked before finally Harry shifted his attention back to them and away from his work. 

“I can remove it.” He told Snape, gesturing to the mark and was rewarded to a moment of unguarded surprise as the man looked from Harry to the mark, to Dumbledore then back before his expression returned to its typical closed off stoicism.

The man regarded Harry for a long moment before very slightly inclining his head, the closest he would allow himself to a request for help at present.

Taking the slight gesture as the consent he was sure it was Harry focused his attention back on the curse mark and focused his will and magic on it, easing through the different strands to the ones that anchored it to the potions professor.

The strand of magic that kept the mark anchored in place on his physical arm came away with little fuss. The secondary anchor that kept it, in part, attached like a weed to the man's soul was slightly less so. The dour man clenched his jaw tightly through it, sweat beading across his brow causing errant strands of hair to stick to it.

The thing finally came free with a gentle but insistent flex of Harry’s magic resulting in an enraged shriek from the mouth of the skull and snake that made up the mark before they twisted in on themselves and faded from existence.

Frederick drew his wand to run some quick diagnostic charms over the other man before nodding slightly. “Slightly elevated heart rate but otherwise no danger or damage from the removal.” He stated quietly before sheathing his wand.

“Well then, to Master Severus Snape and Heir Draco Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy, I, Harry James Hyperion of the Ancient and Royal House of Potter, sovereign of the territory of Volstar do officially award you both asylum and all the rights, responsibilities and protections associated with it.”

Looking from one to the other Harry clapped his hands. “Well, I suppose we better help you collect some of your possessions and get you settled in. I have a feeling it’s going to be a bit of a culture shock for you both.”

Watching them turn to each other and start to exchange quiet words, Harry wondered briefly if he should reach out to Sirius or Remus through the link his crown provided to warn them about their impending arrival.

They knew Malfoy had been a possibility, before Harry had left for the interview.

Snape was very much not on the list of probable outcomes for the meeting.

Then again...what’s the worst that could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, it's not like anyone jinxed themselves horribly by thinking/saying that. >__>"
> 
> Let me know what you think, Lovelies, either in the comments or on the discord server (invite link below), there's over a hundred of us bouncing around there now, chatting and sharing our geekish appreciation.
> 
> I'll see you next week with the next instalment of Harry's weird and wonderful adventures!
> 
> (PS. Yay for Library construction!)


	34. Warts and All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news is out and Harry finds himself inexplicably struggling with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, Happy Monday!
> 
> Welcome to the next chapter of APA.  
> I hope everyone has been well this past week?
> 
> I also hope you all enjoy this chapter, which is a bit heavy on the feels (I blame my own mood this past week). So without further ado, here's chapter 34!

#### 16th March 1995 - Training Rooms, Ministry of Magic, Volstar 

> **_The-Woman-Who-Loved_** _  
> The-Boy-Who-Lived is for most, a household name, a well known story. If asked (and sometimes even without asking) any one of us could speak at length on the topic of one of the most famous wizards of the age. The harrowing tale and the triumph over evil.  
>  Or at least we thought we knew the story.  
>  By this point many of our dear readers have heard about the record of the trial of Lord Sirius Black. We’ve covered its salient points as best we could including his shocking Not Guilty verdict and the news that Peter Pettigrew, who had previously been declared dead and posthumously awarded the much famed Order of Merlin, 1st Class, medal for acts of outstanding bravery or distinction had in truth been not only alive all along but the true perpetrator of the heinous crimes Lord Black had previously been accused of (and sent to Azkaban for).  
>  Since it’s acceptance and viewing by the ICW and our own DMLE, that same evidence has been (in a move some have considered widely controversial) available for viewing by and an all curious individuals from its location atop pedestals in the Ministry atrium.  
>  Though as riveting the proof of Lord Black’s innocence in regards to the murders he had allegedly committed (and sent to Azkaban for a decade for) far more interesting is the memories of that fateful night.  
>  That’s right dear readers, if you were not aware among the evidence are two memories one from Lord Black and one from The-Boy-Who-Lived himself that show any and all exactly what happened that night.  
>  And having viewed each several times my own self, several thoughts have indeed come to the fore.  
>  Chief among them is the curious case of Lily Potter and how seemingly no-one had considered what role she had played in those blessedly horrible events. The muggleborn witch who ranked highest academically during her time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a witch who is shown in memory to be perfectly comfortable with not only non-verbal magic, but totally wandless as well.  
>  A witch who’s magic and love set down a powerful protection, fueled by the willing sacrifice of her own life for her infant son, was the true cause for You-Know-Who’s demise. As anyone can view in its entirety from Harry Potter’s own amazing but heartbreaking memory.  
>  As thankful as we all no doubt are to the part he played in the downfall of the darkest wizard Britain has seen in recent memory, I think we all must now admire and give thanks to Lily Potter, The-Woman-Who-Loved, because without that love, the world we would otherwise inhabit would be too terrible to imagine.  
>  For more on the individuals mentioned in this article, please turn to pages 3, 5,6 and 7.  
>    
>  This has been Goren Galloway reporting for the Daily Prophet._

  
  


Harry knew the article, every letter on every line. 

He knew which picture sat where, the rigid lines of the font and the precise location of each spot of punctuation. 

Knew the wrinkles around the edges and the blotches his tears had caused. 

He had since it arrived read it once, but cried over it more times than he was strictly comfortable admitting. 

He was still admittedly a little surprised that neither Sirius or Remus had tried to take it away from him in a bid to force him to look elsewhere. 

But in reality they had been too focused on their own copies of the paper. 

Now his copy sat to one side on a bench, well within reach while he went through the motions of training with his magic. He had lost count -- though not really -- of the number of training dummies he had destroyed and repaired. 

He could see no obvious reason for the strong emotional response. 

It had been a very nice article, all things considered. There were certainly other journalists that could -- and would -- have used it as an opportunity to make snide remarks. About his parents, about Hogwarts, about the Ministry or someone else. Compared to some other news articles that have made it to print in the last handful of months it was positively glowing with decency and well wishing. 

Which didn’t help him pick apart why it had -- and still did -- upset him so much. 

The more rational side of his mind knew that he was too close to it and that that was why he couldn’t pick it all apart and analyze it himself like he tended to do with all the other things that upset him, now that he had the training to do so. 

Similarly he knew that he should make time to sit down with Frederick so the other man could help him work through it. But for the moment it felt too raw to be poked at, even as gently and as respectfully as he knew the older man would be. 

It was just as well that he hadn’t seen hide-nor-hair of Snape or Malfoy since the morning after their move when he had given them both the tour, Malfoy his study schedule and books, and Snape a listing of potential jobs and their skill requirements. 

He had gotten a raised eyebrow out of the last until he explained that as a security measure they were both required to be easily accounted for -- and monitorable for -- a probationary period and that Malfoy’s schooling served the same purpose, even if he returned to the flat they shared at the end of the day instead of staying on school grounds. 

Likewise whatever employment option Snape decided on would allow him to be easily monitored during the day and provide him with a steady source of income with which to provide for his godson with. Something that was a mandatory requirement for him to maintain custody of the teen, rather than having his care revert to Sirius as his closest blood relative on the island. 

The look the pale teen had thrown the potion master had Harry quickly smothering a snort of laughter. He honestly didn’t think he had ever seen the other teen look simultaneously so panicked and insistent. 

And that did include his understandable, though hilarious, reaction to the announcement of a loose troll in their first year. 

When the last dummy had been rendered down into a jagged pile of twitching splinters Harry sighed and let his hands drop to his sides. Ideally he would have been out working on the Library but construction had halted on account of the storm currently raging away outside. 

The same storm that had been raging away since the paper had come with its pretty article. 

It had been Hildegara that had brought Tillander with her that morning to talk about the uncontrolled blending of powerful emotion and equally powerful ambient magic. He had told Harry that elves worked their hardest when they were in pain, not because the work was making them sad, but because they used all the activity to bleed off some of their excess magic so that they didn’t face the same problem Harry was currently dealing with. 

That his magic was reacting with his sadness and natural bond with water to draw it from the atmosphere. And that it was mixing with plasma and darkness to form the dark storm that was lashing at their homes, beating at their windows and flooding their streets. 

Tillander had instructed him to put his magic to work and direct it towards a desired outcome so it would not lash out on its own accord. He had told Harry that the manner he did so mattered very little, just that it be harnessed and channeled intentionally and the excess was drained away. 

So, in no mood to build or tidy or any number of other things he could have done he turned to something that was becoming more and more familiar. 

Violence. 

Whether it was training with his body, learning to wield any and every weapon Ruknukle put into his hands. Or working with Sirius to train his magic to be more responsive and intuitive in live fire combat situations, Harry couldn’t help but think that the instinct towards violent reaction was becoming closer and closer to a second thought, rather than a fourth or a fifth. 

So he had locked himself in the auror training rooms, more specifically one of the large target ranges and had thrown himself into going through the motions, directing his magic to seek and destroy. Whether shaped into proper spellwork or let free in area detonations that would buffet everything in a circle around him. 

He shattered dummies, cracked the walls and shook the ground while time fled. 

With a deep sigh he let himself drop to his knees then to his rear, catching his momentum with one hand as he took in the devastation, from his position twisted up on the floor. 

It was just as well, he thought, that he had finally slipped into an odd sort of numbness.

He let his elbows rest on his knees and bowed his head so his hands covered his dry eyes and blocked his view of the ruin he had caused, all the while his magic slipped free into the room and its scattered, shattered items. Sinking into the splinters, cracks and crushed pieces and weaving them whole once more and back into place as if they had never been damaged to begin with. 

Time continued to slip away from him while his mind wandered on the tide of oblivion, being dragged further and further out to sea until he gradually became aware of small movement and warmth against his back. 

Little by little his consciousness drew back to the surface until he became properly aware of his self and the room around him again. That the warmth was Sirius wrapped around him, chest pressed to Harry’s back and arms wrapped around shoulders and waist. And that the movement was the gentle side to side rocking the older man was guiding their bodies through. 

He could feel the others chin resting on his shoulder and his breath brush against his cheek with each exhalation. 

Seeming to realise that Harry was aware of himself and the room at large again, Sirius’ arms tightened in a gentle squeeze. “Back with me?” 

“Yeah.” The teen whispered back, letting his body relax back into his godfather's hold. “Just got a bit overwhelmed, sorry.” 

The older man tilted his head just enough so as to gently nudge against Harry’s with it. “Here now, none of that. What do you always tell me?” 

It took Harry a moment to recall what the other was talking about. “We apologise for actions, not emotions.” He recited quietly. 

“Just so. So none of this apologising for being a bit upset.” Sirius gently chided. 

“I also destroyed the room.” Harry offered while his hands moved to rest on the others' wrists. 

“And then you fixed it so well it looks like nothing happened to begin with, so I think you’re even on that one.” The older animagus huffed, giving him another squeeze. 

Deciding that he wasn’t going to win the argument Harry decided to let it go and instead let himself drift a bit more, soaking up the others warmth. 

It had only been a short while ago, all things said and done, that they last sat like this. Though that time they had been curled up on a couch watching and rewatching the memory of Harry’s first Christmas when he had been not quite five months old -- and thus passed around Lily and the Marauders like a hot potato -- and every one else had been very intent on cuddling with him and forgetting there were things beyond the house walls that they didn’t want to think about for the day.

It was one of several memories of his infancy that had returned to clarity while he had slept. The protective and healing effects of his mind boggling brain augmenting ritual reviving and strengthening the old withered synapses that connected those memories to the rest of his awareness. 

It was a matter of some debate and much head scratching, there were no other records that they had been able to find of the _Exitatio Mentis_ ritual lasting as long. Prior to Harry, the longest active state had been four months, recorded in the journal of one Cestus Rigellan Black, who had apparently used the benefits to create a number of spells that were still part of the Black Library.

A jaunt into the mundane science side of things had turned up a theory that no one actually ever lost memories through time or injury, that people instead lost access to them because the connective synapses of the brain decayed over time. But it wasn’t something the researchers had truly been able to test, due to the time frame and complexity of the matter. So Frederick and Harry had made notes and started writing up their own journals revolving around the issue -- and in Harry’s case the rest of his life and observations just in case -- and had decided that for the immediate future that was likely the best they were going to get. 

So even if they weren’t certain of the science of _how_ they could analyse each new remembered dream or memory and make note of it. And then depending on what it was Harry would share it with Sirius and Remus. 

It was the closest they could get to those stolen years they hadn’t gotten to share together. 

“How long?” Harry asked when he finally felt ready to start the process of rejoining the rest of the world.

“Hm?” Sirius hummed. “How long what...how long have you been here, how long have I been here or how long have we been sitting here?”

“Yes.”

Digging his chin into Harry’s shoulder a little in repayment for the cheek, Sirius nevertheless answered. “You’ve been in here about six hours. I’ve been here keeping an eye on you for four of them and we’ve probably been sitting here about a half hour before you came back up.” 

“That long?” The teen asked, surprised.

“Mm, time flies when you’re stuck in your own head.” Sirius replied, giving his godson another squeeze. “So, are you going to go have a sit down with Frederick for a proper session and talk your way through this or am I going to have to give you puppy dog eyes?” 

That made Harry snort a laugh. “I can’t believe you just called yourself a puppy.” 

“Oi, leave off!” Sirius barked with a playful scowl as he finally unwrapped his arms from around his godsons so he could poke him in the sides. “I’ll have you know I’m very young at heart. Besides I’m only thirty-five, I’m practically just starting puberty in wizard years.” 

“If you say so.” The teen shot back, shifting on the spot so he could give the older man his best patronising look. 

In retaliation Sirius slipped into his animagus form causing Harry to fall back without the solid support of his solid chest to lean against. He neatly sidestepped the teens flailing and plopped himself down again in easy visual range so he could stare across at Harry who had finally righted himself. 

Seeing the wide liquid eyes directed at him, Harry huffed and turned away. “Oh no, I’m not falling for this again.” 

Behind him Padfoot hangs his head dejectedly, though still looking up at his godson. 

Against better instincts and reason Harry glances over his shoulder, only to grumble at the sight. “It won’t work, I’ve gotten better at ignoring you when you do this. Besides, I’ve got too much work to do, and I’m already behind because I’ve apparently been in here all day wasting time.” 

Padfoot whined at that and shifted down to lay on his belly, head resting against the floor while his eyes darted back and forth from Harry to the floor, then to Harry then away again, whining softly all the while. 

Hearing the soft whining from behind him the young king groaned and dropped his head into his hands so he could scrub at his face in agitation. “That’s not fair, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do the whine thing?!” He cried into his hands. 

Behind him Padfoot started to shuffle around on his belly until he was close enough to lift his head and rest it on one of the teens outstretched legs then continued to stare up at his godson while he whined at him in an award worthy show of disappointment and hurt. 

Without thought one of Harry’s hands dropped down to rest lightly on the older man's head before he sighed and started to lightly run his fingers through the other's fur. “This is both cruel and unusual, you know that right?” Harry muttered, but continued to pet the other animagus.

Padfoot whined quietly in reply and tilted his head into the gently scritching fingers. 

“I’ll go see him tomorrow morning.” The teen conceded, shoulders slumping as he admitted defeat. “For now we should probably check the farms and the sewer system to see how well their charms managed to deal with the storm.” 

Transforming back into his human form, Sirius opted to keep his head in his godson’s lap though he shifted onto his back so he could look up at the teen properly. “I ran into the esteemed Madam Hubbard on the way here, she’s been back and forth between the fields and the greenhouses. The greenhouses have been weathering it all quite well, according to her. The fields less so, though she was apparently on her way back out to lay some additional protections on them and the orchards.” 

Making a face at the possibility of damage to their growing fields or the orchards because of him, Harry sighed. “I didn’t even think about the orchards.” He admitted. 

The city’s orchards had been split into two sections, indoors and outdoors since not all the trees and fruit bearing bushes they wanted to grow would thrive in the heavy sun climate. The original plan had been simply to have a handful of trees for the most basic fruits and nuts that were easy to cultivate just about anywhere, however after seeing the size of the growing spaces Harry was allotting to her team and discovering just how fertile the land was thanks to the nearby volcanoes, she had all but cornered Harry with a list of plants to retrieve for her to plant. 

Magic help him if his storm had caused any irreversible damage to her pride and joy. For all the woman was very mild mannered in the day to day, she turned into an absolute bear when her green things were at risk.

Literally. 

As it turned out, his own achievement of his animagus form -- and the strictly enforced prices on ingredients to protect against price gouging -- had apparently inspired others to try to achieve their own. 

Buoyed by the islands ideal weather conditions and the happy relationship with the elves who were keen to remind their neighbours when it was time to cast the incantation or when the maturation time was complete on the potion and so on, there were now more people on Volstar that were animagus than there were people that weren’t. 

It was something that amused most of them in varying degrees, after a lifetime of being told how difficult or flat unattainable the process was, it served as another reminder about the sorts of things they could achieve when working together. 

Sirius had said it was like their entire little community was flipping magical Britain the bird. 

“How angry did you look?” Harry asked after a moment's pause, idly wondering if he needed to brace for a scolding the next time he saw her. 

“Not at all. A but harried and worried, but not angry in the least.” Sirius responded evenly. “Moony’s the one doing the worried-angry march around your office.” 

“Sorry.” The teen muttered contritely, shoulders slumped under the knowledge that he had upset one of his friends and pseudo-uncle. 

“Eh, don’t be. You’re a teenager, it’s practically your calling to make old mother hens like moony worry themselves into a state at least two or three times a month.” The older animagus assured him, absently waving away the apology. 

Harry raised a black brow at that. “Seems a bit excessive.” 

Sirius shrugged. “Seems like a normal teenager to me.” 

“I’m pretty sure you and the rest of the Marauders aren’t what most people have in mind when they think about normal teenagers.” Harry countered before shaking his head at the exaggerated pout the older man directed up at him. “Come on, we’ll go find Remus then go tour the damage.” 

Huffing a sigh, the older man rolled off his godsons lap and climbed to his feet before he held out a hand to help pull the teen up off of the floor. “I’m sure everythings fine. The runes and enchantments on the sewer systems are rated for monsoons and tidal waves, we really went overkill when we were setting things up.” 

“Maybe, but this is the worst storm we’ve had since we’ve been here, so I’d like to look it over and see if anything needs to be changed.” Harry replied. “Better we find out now than later down the line when we have thousands of people making use of the system.” 

“Tell me we’re at least going to jump in some puddles?” 

“If you want.” The teen easily agreed before turning to lead the way out of the firing range. “But if the system did what it was meant to, there won’t be all that many worth splashing about it.” 

“You, dear godson, are really starting to grow into a Debby Downer.” Sirius grumbled as he moved to follow. 

Harry rolled his eyes at the good natured grumbling. “We can’t all be the life of the party.” 

“So true. This is much harder than I make it look, you know?” 

Amused despite the lingering edge of sadness he was trying not to think about, Harry let his shoulder bump against the taller males arm while he gave him a grateful smile. 

He really didn’t want to think about what life might be like without the other man in it. 

Warts and all. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

The fierce storm that had been raging almost since the moment of their arrival on what several back home had been snidely calling ‘the frontier’ was finally slowly draining away. 

Though he does wonder if those same uppercrust snobs would still be so snide if they saw for themselves what this so-called desolate frontier actually looked like. What the meanest standard of living afforded its people.

Severus had quite frankly been expecting very little when he had placed his hand on his godson's shoulder so they could be transported to the Mediterranean island nation. Arriving in the neatly maintained paved landing spot with its bright sun and equally bright neighbouring buildings. 

There were also neatly maintained plants everywhere, potted or otherwise. So much so that despite all the concrete, stone and glass that made up most of the buildings the air smelt of warmth and greenery. Of light summer flowers and grass and other sweet things.

It was such a juxtaposition with Hogwarts, whence they came, and London that Severus could quietly admit to himself he felt rather flat-footed. 

Their first day in had consisted of oaths and a rather comprehensive guided tour to help he and Draco orientate themselves before they had been led to one of the tall buildings that housed a multitude of flats and had been given the keys to one. 

It had been much more than either he or his godson had been anticipating with plenty of room for each of them and then some besides. 

But they had found themselves left to their own devices, which resulted in his godson closing himself up in his room for a nap while Severus himself sat on the edge of one of two couches with shirt sleeves pushed up while his fingers traced over and over a now blank forearm. 

Even now, days after the dark mark had been pulled from his skin he still caught himself expecting to see it there. 

Though, given the fact that it had been there, emblazoned upon his skin for near on two decades, he thought he could forgive himself the slow adjustment period. 

And it had been Potter of all people that had rid him of it.

James’ brat. 

Lily’s boy. 

It was both madness and serendipitous that he should find himself saved, at least in part, by something of her creation. As if she were reaching out from beyond the grave to fix yet another of his mistakes.

_The-Woman-Who-Loved_ the paper was calling her now, as if they could ever hope to name the pure awesome weight of her devotion, of her caring soul. 

As if they had any right at all to speak of her after years of ignoring her talents and sacrifices. 

Turning away from the paper that sat neatly folded on his desk, Severus instead turned his attention to the list of possible employment options he had been presented with. 

He had yet to pick something, but he had spent the previous day crossing off all the ones that he either had no interest in or would force him to interact with Lupin or the Mutt. The less time spent in their dubious company the better, for all involved. 

Or at the very least, for him. 

Though admittedly, he had thus far managed to avoid crossing paths with Black at all and had only bumped into Lupin the one time in Potter’s office since the man was apparently working as his secretary of all things. 

Picking up the list he started browsing through it again, intent on narrowing the selection down further. 

Perhaps something in research? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, 'teacher' appeared absolutely nowhere on the list of jobs Snape was given.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, please feel free to share your thoughts either in the comments below, or jump on the discord server (link down below) and share your thoughts there with myself and the other readers who have already joined.
> 
> Next week will probably see Harry back at Hogwarts for the third Tri-Wizard task, unless something else grabs at my muses attention, so we'll get to see more of our glow-boy Harry unintentionally/intentionally showing off.
> 
> See you then! *waves*


	35. Walk the Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's back at Hogwarts for the third task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies, Happy Monday.  
> I'm back on schedule after a bit of a flounder irl  
> How absolutely mad is it that this fic has been bookmarked more than a thousand time? I'm almost beyond words.  
> What a delicious slice of madness cake! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Anyway, on with the chapter!

#### 22nd March 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

Hogwarts or its headmaster had very graciously decided in the time before his arrival to carve out a tiny pseudo sitting area along one wall of the Great Hall for him to sit and relax without treading in and out of the Gryffindor common room.

It was quite basic, consisting of several couches and armchairs arranged around a small fireplace that was currently unlit. The chairs were all different colours and patterns, likely off pieces from the teachers rooms or the various common rooms that hadn’t been in use and there was a patchwork rug on the floor between them that looked like someone had taken several different hunks of other old rugs and haphazardly stitched them together.

There were several small tables scattered between them and a low tea table that looked like it had seen better days.

But despite the hodgepodge of pieces, it still felt quite cozy, if a little awkward with basically the entire school sitting a few paces away eating lunch and stealing looks at him while he sipped at his tea and nibbled on the dainty little cakes Hildegara had commandeered from the kitchens.

But it was good in a way, it was giving him more real world chances to get used to dissecting what he was feeling, especially when other people were involved. It was something Frederick called his ‘homework’.

So he was sitting there, being stared at while he lazily drank tea and pondered over his annoyance at being stared at.

Though honestly it was something he had been supposed to be doing since he had first started talking to the man that had become his personal healer and somewhat friend all those months ago. He tended to make a lot of excuses for why he hadn’t been doing it, most of them revolving around being too busy and not having the time in the moment to do so.

Frederick had gotten in the habit of giving him the same look when he asked and got those answers each fortnight during their sessions. The one that said that he know that Harry knew that he knew that Harry was just hedging because he wasn’t quite ready to deal with some of the things he was thinking and feeling, but was giving him the freedom to decide when they actually got stuck into dissecting it all provided it wasn’t actively hurting him or anyone else.

It had felt a bit awkward at first, especially since for once Harry hadn’t known how or where to start that next morning after his not so small meltdown with Sirius.

But then Frederick had set aside his cup of tea and fixed his mismatched eyes on him.

_You told me one that your relatives told you and the world, growing up with them, that your parents were layabouts, drunkards and generally terrible people which resulted in their dying in a car crash?_

It had taken the older man an embarrassing short amount of time to work out that what Harry had been feeling was a combination of things that largely stemmed from a sense of vindication.

Harry had known, deep down, all along that his mother and father weren’t the sort of people his relatives told everyone they were.

Knew it with the same fierce certainty that all young orphans believe in their parents.

Then he had _remembered_ and had been able to share that with the world. Now the world knew the same things he had always believed, his parents were good people and they had loved him.

They were brave and strong and loyal and wonderful despite their faults and now everyone else knew it too.

And it was too late.

Too late for James to know he was respected for being a doting husband and father, for willingly making a last stand to buy time for his love and heir.

Too late for Lily to know that she had shown the world what a young witch, muggle born and raised could become. That her last act of love, of sacrifice, could leave the world in awe

The world knew, but they weren’t there to see it.

They were dead and gone.

And it wasn’t fair.

A soft cough dragged Harry’s attention from where he had been staring into his tea to a spot opposite him where Hermione was standing next to one of the available armchairs.

“Harry...can we talk?” She asked quietly, one hand resting on the back of the armchair and expression uncertain.

“Always.” He responded immediately, setting his cup aside and pushing himself to sit up straighter.

Moving to sit, the older girl fiddled with arranging the hem of her skirt for a moment before she finally stopped her fidgeting hands and folded them in her lap. “I’m not sure where to start honestly, I’ve had a lot of things running about in my head that I wanted to ask you about, but I couldn’t just ambush you in the common room or prod you at meals or between classes like I used to.”

“You can always write, I enjoy getting letters from you and Ron each week about everything I’ve been missing.” He suggested, finding that he wanted to encourage her like normal, despite his own mood still being largely all over the place.

“I know, and I thought about it, but I decided that I wanted to talk about them in person, without the delay of having to wait on mail.” She explained, giving a little shrug.

Harry nodded slowly before inclined his head in her direction. “We could start with that.”

She blinked, looking first down then around herself trying to see what he was talking about. “What?”

“The last time I was able to visit, you were wearing a badge that Ron said you wore everyday.” He told her and noted absently when understanding settled in her.

“I called it **S.P.E.W** , it stands for The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare and I-” She cut off, biting her bottom lip while she pondered how to order her thoughts. “I went to the Quidditch World Cup with Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, do you remember?”

Harry nodded, his hands folding in his lap. “You wrote about it in one of your letters, though you didn’t say too much about it, just a brief bit about what had happened, the fact you were all okay and that the treatment of the elves you had seen while there was deplorable and you were very angry about it.”

“Right.” She nodded. “I thought if I could form a group and protest the treatment then I could gather enough awareness and force change. I even thought about knitting caps and socks and such so any elves that were living in slavery could pick them up and free themselves.”

The young king gave her a smile, understanding her well meant intentions, though not bothering to tamper down the wry edge to it. “Didn’t take it well, did they?”

“No.” She admitted freely, pulling a face at her own fidgeting hands. “Hildegara has been kind enough to explain some things to me the last few times you’ve visited, and she’s helped me explain to the Hogwarts elves what my intentions had been and to help me apologise for the accidental offense. But...But it’s just made me realise that there’s so much discrimination and cultural supression going on that I never knew about.”

“There is.” Harry agreed, because it was true, at its heart there was a great deal of it going on in Wizarding Great Britain that he hadn’t known about when he had lived here. Things that no one talked about that were swept under the rug of polite society. “It’s why I spent so long talking with Goldhammer and Tillander to try and make sure none of the laws I was building for Volstar would do the same there, that they had done here.”

Hermione nodded. “I took clippings of the articles from the Prophet so I could refer back to them and cross reference them with a study of the British laws that I decided to do. I thought after Hogwarts that I might go into the Ministry and try and help change things.”

Harry cocked his head to one side and regarded her evenly. “Do you still want to, seems like it’ll be a lot of work?” He asked her. “Practically an uphill battle with all of the opposition you’ll probably end up facing.”

She fixed him with a look that was part glower, part pout and all around determined. “I’m not afraid to stand up and do the right thing.” She growled.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Harry smiled at her. “I know, I’ve known that since I was eleven.”

She held her scowl for a moment longer before deflating, fingers fiddling once more. “How did it even get so bad?” She muttered, brows drawn down. “Surely someone must have seen that all those laws were hurtful.”

“A compound of a lot of things, I think. Fear, inherent biases, lack of proper education and awareness, bigotry. A lot of laws tend to be made with good intentions, though not all of them really weigh the morality and possible long term consequences of each. Then the others are bullied and bribed through by people that want to shape their society in accordance with their views and beliefs.” Harry explained, head cocked to one side as his glowing eyes focused on a point beyond the unlit fireplace in his little alcove. “Technically I and Volstar fall into that latter category as well, it just happens that my views and beliefs help to craft a mutually beneficial symbiotic environment that plays out on paper as a Welfare State.”

“I suppose.” Hermione hedged, voice a bit distant as she mulled over it herself.

They sit in silence for a while. Hermione contemplated what Harry had said while Harry pondered on how very unsubtle teenagers really were, all the while he scans the rest of the hall out of the corner of his eye.

It’s because of this he managed to catch sight of Fred and George barreling towards them and braced himself just in time for them to slam into the back of Hermione’s armchair making her start in fright and give a little scream.

Something that earned both a slap on the arm.

They used the half hearted slaps as an excuse to tumble themselves onto the floor in front of Harry’s own armchair in a great display of dramatics, bemoaning their swift comeuppance in grand fashion that would have looked out of place on anyone else.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the behavior and bounced to her feet and smoothed out her skirt. “If you excuse me, I think I’ll stop by the library for a new book before the task.”

Giving her a wave, Harry watched as she disappeared out of the hall before he turned to the twins and gave them a raised brow. “She been disappearing into the library again?”

“Only most days.” George answered with an easy shrug. “Freddie dear’s been keeping an eye on her.”

“Like a gentleman should!” Fred shot back, cheeks just a little rosy. Though whether it was from embarrassment or the sprint through the Great Hall was anyone's guess.

“Not Ron?”

“Our Ronald willingly in the library?” George asked archly. “Oh no, little Ronniekins has been walking about with a certain Indian goddess as of late.”

“Been tripping over himself to get every door, carry every book and write poetry so horridly soppy it’ll curl your hair.” Fred agreed, propping himself up onto his knees, head turned to where Ron was sitting perched next to Padma Patil despite the different houses. “Besides, he and Hermione haven’t been as close since their row at the end of the Yule ball.”

Harry frowned. “Row, what row, they were fine when I left and neither of them have mentioned anything in their letters.”

George shook his head. “They wouldn’t would they, they’re both being a bit pig-headed to be fair.”

“They started bickering after you left the ball and it managed to escalate into a screaming match outside the Great Hall-”

“Bloody terrible!” George shot in.

“-until Snape happened by them on his rounds and separated them. It’s been a bit of a cold war ever since.” Fred explained, shrugging a little half-heartedly.

“No one’s said anything.” Harry muttered, deflating in place a little.

At his feet the twins exchanged a look before slouching down so their chins were each resting on one of his knees so they could look up at him from beneath ginger lashes. “Cheer up, O’ noble king!”

“They’ll work it out, and besides, you’ve always got us!”

“You’re faithful servants!”

Harry gave them both a small smile and lightly tapped each on the head. “I know, just been a bit jumbled lately.” He told them quietly.

The twins regarded him for a long moment before turning ever so slightly to exchange glances with each other, the minute shifting of brow or tilt of head all that clued Harry into their silent conversation.

Eventually they nodded in unison, chins digging uncomfortably into the tops of Harry’s knees.

“You need to take a tour of the workshop.” Fred announced.

“We’ve got loads of new stuff for you to look at.” George added with a grin. “And you should take a look at the floor plans for the two shops.”

Fred nodded again, making Harry grimace a little as his chin dug into his already tender leg, though he made no move to chase the two away. “Business has been booming.”

“Absolutely booming!”

“We’ve managed enough profit from all the sales from the tournament so far and our own side sales between that we’ve gotten enough together to afford a shop we were looking at in Diagon Alley _and_ the chestful of galleons we needed for a place in Skyfall.” Fred finished, expression settling into something both proud and excited.

“Plus a bit!” George added with a grin. “Enough to pay wages so we’ve got some help running things.”

Harry smiled down at them both, genuinely pleased by their success. “That’s great, guys. I knew the sales were going really well, but I didn’t know they were going that well.”

George nodded then finally sat back with a grin when the younger teen glowered at him. “We’ve been milking the tournament for all it’s worth. While it’s up and running we’ve been able to have those stands in all three schools, plus that one you set up in Skyfall and the small one they set up in the Ministry and Diagon Alley. We’ve had to change up the stock for some of them, like the one in the Ministry so it’s more attractive to older customers but everyone’s been massively keen.”

“Right, the memory orbs for the tasks have been selling like wildfire in all the stalls. We’ve barely been able to keep up with the demand, we’ve had to expand on the owl orders between the tasks to keep up.” Fred agreed, shifting to sit with his legs crossed and idly scratched at his chin. “We’ve had to spend some of the profits on a few more owls for that but they’re company owls so at least the funds are being reinvested back into the company.”

“Which is what you want to be doing, as much as possible at this point.” The young king reminded them.

They had spent several hours over several days before the first task both discussing and creating merchandise for the stalls to sell, but also learning what they’d need to get the stalls up and running and keep them running smoothly. 

Or at least Harry had learnt, since as it turned out the twins had already known all the things he had been learning about how to run a business. They had, in fact been teaching themselves for a couple years between Hogwarts lessons and over summer breaks when they weren’t inventing new ways to make their mother scream at their antics.

But while Harry had flicked his way through books on business management they had drawn up -- at Harry’s insistence -- a detailed breakdown of their plans and goals for the business. How they planned to reinvest the money they made, how they were sourcing raw materials, plans for employees like preferred skills and ideal wages.

The plan to branch out into accepting and promoting owl orders had been on the books as it were from quite early on, however they hadn’t honestly anticipated actually _needing_ to incorporate that particular dynamic until they had a permanent shop. So they’d had to get special permission to leave school grounds during term in order to purchase several owls to use and were keeping them in a small eyrie the Hogwarts elves had constructed for them, in order to keep them separate from the general purpose school owls.

The last thing they needed was to go up with an armful of orders only to find their owls had been sent off with someone else’s mail home.

“Yeah, so we also managed to talk McGonagall into taking us to Diagon last week so we could visit the elf placement place.” Fred told him, grinning broadly.

“You’re looking at the proud partners to four elves. We figured two for each shop when they’re built and some dedicated hands in the meanwhile to help with production and order processing.” George added, looking particularly pleased with the turn of events.

Fred nodded, rocking a little in place while his fingers wrapped around his ankles. “Right and we remembered all the stuff about names and uniforms you told us so they’re all dressed up in the snazzy uniforms we designed for the shops-”

“- complete with the golden W for Weasley Wizard Wheezers.” George finished, sharing a grin with his twin. “We copied your employment laws and taught them about ‘em so they know we’re not withholding work as a punishment.”

“There were a lot of tears involved.” Fred said.

“Yeah, Gred wouldn’t stop sobbing.”

“Oi!” Fred cried, reaching out to shove his twin which only made the other laugh.

Harry smiled at the antics and shook his head, amused as usual by their light hearted behaviour. “Good, I’m glad you’re managing to work things out.”

And it was.

It made him feel warm, seeing others deciding on their own without pressure or bribery to follow the example he was setting. He had given them a different option, a different perspective and they had grabbed hold and let it lead them somewhere new.

He could only hope that others would start following that same example.

~*~*~*~*~

Staring out over the Great Lake, Harry found himself wondering a few things.

First, if each of the tasks were each meant to play to the particular skills of each champion, how had they decided on which skillset best represented which champion?

Which task and its associated challenges?

Why this or that challenge?

How were they planning around the anomaly that was Harry Potter who had -- quite honestly -- been smashing through each of their tasks with his honestly unfair advantages?

The first task with its raging dragons and the golden goal of the egg and its puzzle could have been meant for any of them. Three of them played Quidditch and quite used to hunting for a golden prize in hectic situations and all three were quite adept with Defense.

But Fleur had done quite well there as well, so Harry couldn’t honestly say the task had been crafted for one of them specifically without any doubt.

The second task that focused around herbology, care of magical creatures and potions had been a bit more obvious. At least if you had no knowledge of Harry’s advancements there.

Viktor had done decently well, though not as well as Fleur or Cedric. And Cedric, while he had done decently well with the finding and gathering of ingredients which showed off his knowledge and skill with herbology and care of magical creatures, had stumbled a bit with the actual potion aspect.

Fleur on the other hand had breezed through all three aspects, doing so well in fact that she had tied with Harry for first place, even with Harry’s considerable education and focus boost. Which said quite a lot since she was still in her final year of what was termed ‘basic’ study and as such, didn’t have access to the same resources or reading material that Harry did.

But this third task was so obviously geared toward Harry it was honestly a little funny.

They were meant to dive into the lake and hunt from place to place, finding the hidden runes they needed to recreate an array each of them would be shown before they dived in. Each of their arrays would be different so they couldn’t just follow one after another and use someone else's success or knowledge to solve their own puzzle.

And they didn’t have to follow the array example they had been given exactly.

They would only be given the most basic array possible to achieve their goal. If they managed to piece together the runes to rebuild the basic array they had been given then they would be awarded the minimum number of points possible for the task and still be counted as a success.

Failure to complete even the basic array would mean a failure, but the name of the game was improvement.

If a champion could discover enough runes -- and the correct ones -- to _improve_ the array they would be given, then they would be awarded additional for each improvement. For each measure of proof that they understood both the balance of runes and the arithmancy that was used to measure and balance their power and symbolism.

The entire task was a giant puzzle that revolved around improvisation and critical thinking, underwater, where Harry would be able to breathe easily, navigate well and fend off aquatic dangers with a similar ease.

Honestly it couldn’t have been more tailored to him unless they scrapped all the other requirements and just made the only condition for success, having the name ‘Harry Potter’.

It was entirely possible, he conceded, that he felt a little insulted.

Which was a little silly, since there were perfectly reasonable chances that the other champions could do well.

There were several ways a person could facilitate the need to breathe while underwater. Similarly there were several charms that could be cast on oneself to aid in navigating through low or even no light environments. Charms that could -- based on proximity -- alert a caster to movement in their vicinity.

And he knew that Cedric had been taking both ancient runes and arithmancy as his elective classes, just like Viktor had -- or at least the Durmstrang equivalent -- along with Fleur who had admitted to having a long standing interest in the subject of runes.

So it wasn’t like the older teenagers would be obviously worse off.

It just sort of felt like an indirect form of pandering, which never failed to rub Harry the wrong way.

The other three were equipped with their standard crystal bands and harnesses in order to capture and relay to the audiences what was going on beneath the lake surface, though the frames that secured the recording crystals had to be further enchanted with a dark piercing charm so that the visuals recorded would actually capture the environment and all the rest and not just the dark waters. They had recognised the possibility of the champions utilising other means of dark-seeing besides a general lighting spell with little input from Harry and had made the request for him to make the adjustments before he could suggest them himself.

Harry though, already realising that he would likely spend the entirety of his time underwater in his animagus form had had to come up with an alternative harness solution for his own recording crystals. He had needed to stand patiently in his animagus form while Hagrid, Frederick, Bill, Ludo Bagman, Ruknukle and Madam Bones all either helped him into or spectated the fitting of a harness that had been created to fit his animagus form.

Where the other champions had a relatively small crystal settled into place on their brow, Harry had a crystal that was halfway between an oblong and a diamond shape resting in the space between his eyes and extended down halfway to his nose at the end of his snout. His mane that usually hung down over his face was carefully braided and tied back, secured to his horns so it wouldn’t drift in the way and obstruct the view.

Rather than another stone at his sternum like the others, he had a larger one that was secured at the junction of his long neck and his dense chest that was joined by another at the mid point of his back so everyone else could see if something tried to come up behind him. That same large harness also incorporated crystals on his sides, where the others had crystals on either shoulder, in order to keep the recording points as equal as possible.

Though unlike the others he also had a band of crystal around his tail. 

In the event something decided to try and take a bite out of it, Ruknukle had said.

Hovering in the air next to the pier, since he was too big to fit on the pier with the rest of the champions, Harry glanced at the rune array that had been drawn onto the large sheaf of parchment Mr. Bagman held up to him and gave a nod while the man tried to hype up the crowd.

Harry was fairly sure he would have had a better time of it if most of the crowd wasn’t gawking at his dragon form.

His fellow champions for their part didn’t appear to be particularly intimidated by the crowd or the task.

On the contrary they all looked a bit amused. Though whether it was at Harry, who couldn’t fit on the pier, or themselves…

Harry was certain he had no clue.

At least none he would admit to.


	36. Grounded Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third task launches into action!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone!
> 
> Almost didn't make it in time for it to still be Monday here ('tis 11:42pm as I write this).  
> But it worked out in the end. 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy the chapter, a couple spots put up a bit of a fight, but I think I got it flowing pretty well in the end.  
> Enjoy!

#### 22nd March 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

When Ludo Bagman gave a swish of his wand to throw up a whiz bang of sparkling fireworks into the air -- and nearly hit Harry with them -- the dragon-king didn’t so much as dive into the lake with the rest of the champions as use his magic to rapidly drop and push his body down past the lake’s surface, sending a huge splash up onto the pier.

Thoroughly soaking the head of the magical games and sports department while he was at it.

It seemed a fair trade to Harry, for the man almost taking off one of his horns.

Beneath the surface once the water had stopped frothing to and fro, the animagus took a moment to check beneath the pier for any sneakily hidden markings before twisting to head deeper into the lake.

He had only been swimming in his animagus form a few times since he had achieved it, each time when another of Skyfall achieved their own form that turned out to be aquatic in nature, which was to say twice. So far their "fish" were a pink dolphin -- which Harry hadn’t realised were an actual thing prior to the transformation --, a clownfish, and a tortoise -- courtesy of Mr. Bolder, which amused them all to no end because though tortoise weren't actually swimmers he had thrown his arms up and told them to lump him with the rest of the fish -- and had struck home the necessity for anyone attempting their first transformation to do so under observation. Specifically by someone who could quickly cast water charms and help them relocate to a proper body of water.

While Harry and one of the other actually aquatic animagi -- ignoring Mr. Bolder's grumbled complaints about being a rocky fish creature and not the marvellously tusked boar he had secretly been hoping for -- was also capable of breathing air, one of their number could not. Which had led to a little initial panic while her colleagues leapt to action with a flurry of charms to make sure the poor woman didn’t asphyxiate.

On the upside the community had come together to remodel her home to feature a large aquarium and stock it with other tropical fish so she could swim about without having to worry about possible predators lurking about looking for lunch. The idea being to try and make sure she wouldn’t feel poorly for having a form that had a more limited use than many of the other citizens.

It had made Harry rather proud -- and maybe a little teary, though he didn’t plan on admitting that -- to see everyone rallying to support and lift the spirits of one of their neighbours.

In the here and now Harry was particularly glad for the additional underwater practice since it meant less time floundering trying to acclimatise past the slightly startling murkiness of the water compared to the bright waters of Volstar’s beaches.

It wasn’t quite natural yet, the action of movement through water with this newer form which worked so totally differently to his human one. His arms and legs for one were of little use to propel him forward through the dark water, instead his body slithered side to side in serpentine fashion. Which was different again from the up and down wave that propelled his body through the air.

It was a little maddening, to be honest, but both Remus and Sirius had assured him that he was essentially taking his first ‘steps’ as it were, something he had done years ago as a human but was only now doing as a dragon. It required patience and repeated efforts for the muscle memory of the actions to become so deeply ingrained that they were unthinking and instinctual.

Until the shifting of muscle became as natural as breathing.

Pushing downward through the murky water he idle made note of some of the flora he passed along with the odd fish or eel in the event he might need them in the future.

The water is surprisingly warmer than he had thought it would feel, at least based on everything he had heard about the lake. He honestly wasn’t sure if it was just the natural temperature of the lake itself or if it was a side effect of his slightly cooler body temperature in his animagus form or some combination of the two.

It’s not long before he finds the first rune, carved into a stone tablet and partially hidden by lazy wavering clumps of gillyweed. It’s so innocuous that he almost swam right past it. As it was he only caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye he turned his head to peer off to the right as the lake began to widen.

It took him some maneuvering to circle around but he managed to get close enough to peer intently at it in the dim light, enough to recognise it as _Ehwaz_ which symbolised several different things -- as all runes did, regardless of their cultural origins -- dependant on positioning and the other runes that were positioned alongside it. But the one that would help Harry in this particular instance was Harmony.

The basic array was one that promoted a feeling of peace for people in its area of effect. It was used heavily in hospitals and asylums, though there were very few of the latter in the magical side of the world.

Also prominently placed were _Wunjo_ for comfort and to enforce harmony, _Sowilo_ that symbolised -- among other things -- power and success. Two things that the infirm were typically in short supply of.

These three formed a tri-point of focus around a heart of _Hagalaz_ in a positive setting. Controlled crisis and inner harmony.

The positioning of _Hagalaz_ was rather critical, since any other position would instead invoke uncontrolled force, the wrath of nature at its most intense.

As far as runic arrays for the elder futhark were concerned, it really only ranked a low-to-mid level of difficulty and it was only _Hagalaz_ that notched up its complexity.

Which of course meant it wouldn’t take too much effort on his part to expand upon it, since realistically speaking the arrays in Skyfall's hospital and various infirmaries were much more complex. The weaved together space and time to expand on the room and dampen feelings of claustrophobia while promoting a sense of peace and safety and encouraging faster healing within their area of effect.

They also had protective measures layered in to protect them from possible vandals, because they agreed the last thing any sick person needed was for some ill-wisher to come along and warp the array for their room and force it to do the opposite. To force it to sap a patients’ strength, to make them feel a failure, to force them to exist in a constant state of panic.

And worse, to slow or altogether prevent the healing of wounds.

Turning away from the tablet Harry used his somewhat side-on position to swim his way to the opposite bank, on the off chance someone had decided to arrange them in a mirror pattern.

Sure enough he found _Wunjo_ carved into a wooden rowboat that had sunken to rest in the lake bed. Not particularly hidden.

As he pressed on, opting to loop the edge of the lake before moving deeper, he idly wondered if these two with their closer to the surface position had been intentionally left in relatively easy view of anyone that happened to swim nearby. If they were less hidden because they were a very basic starting point.

He sincerely hoped that was indeed the case, as it meant that as he made his way further down the more complexly symbolic runes would be better hidden and perhaps even guarded.

Everyone knew odd and dangerous creatures and beings lived in the Great Lake, in _an loch mòr_.

It was after all one of the largest magically hidden lakes in the world, shrouded in its entirety especially for the protection of magical aquatic lifeforms. Where a number of creatures from other rivers and lakes had been relocated to over the years, creatures that had necessitated some creative intervention with the local muggle population.

Wizard interference was just one of the ways a rogue kelpie could become a fictitious sea monster in a lake that no one could prove was real.

Which people were still debating on both sides, magical and mundane.

He found two additional runes from his quick swim around the edge of the lake, pushing himself to move faster than he was truly comfortable with at the present in order to cover the distance that represented. It was enough that he felt his muscles starting to ache under the strain.

A very unfamiliar sort of strain from equally unfamiliar muscle groups.

But he pushed on, uncertain what his fellow champions had managed to discover by pushing deeper while he had lingered closer to the surface. He had no way of knowing just how many runes had in fact been put into position or what orientation they had been placed in, since one of the last two he had found closer to the surface had clear markings etched beside it to show it was aligned in the orientation they were meant to use, a negative in that particular case.

He also didn’t know if there would be any surprise creatures, any transplanted magical flora that could poison, maim or otherwise impede his progress.

Honestly he had been rather spoiled over the last year aside from the mystery of the Tri-Wizard Tournament tasks, most of his days were spent with either all the information he needed to make just about any of the decisions that needed to be made. Or he had the means to acquire the information he was lacking with very little effort.

Being able to absorb the information stored in books as quickly as he could meant that he could cross reference different sources and theories much faster than the average student or researcher. It had given him more time to work through the physical experiments he sometimes needed to test or confirm those theories which in turn strengthened his knowledge base and gave him more to work with on his many projects.

Things like this, the events whether actively competing against the other champions or just in trying to navigate around the public relations spectacle or having to talk down his security team because something had been proposed for one of the events that they had taken an intense exception to.

It added what was frequently referred to as the ‘human element’, the chaotic unknown that he was pretty hit-and-miss at predicting.

Like the choice to ‘stand’ ground and engage in an underwater battle with one of the kelpies he had been thinking on earlier.

Further in front of him and just a bit deeper than he was currently Harry could sense the familiar presence of Cedric and Viktor from the slightly wild bursts of spells they were throwing at a large equine figure that seemed intent on trying to charge at the two young men.

Or charge past them to the cave behind them.

As he drew closer the kelpie managed to catch sight of him and reared back with a shriek that managed to travel surprisingly well through the water before it seemed to fold into itself becoming a writhing mass of shrieking flesh that looked, Harry thought, horrible uncomfortable.

He shifted his gaze just enough to study Cedric and Viktor and found neither looked too worse for wear. Or at least he didn’t think Viktor looked too bad considering he was in fact part shark at present and Harry had not as yet learned how to judge a sharks mood by the look of their faces.

If such a thing were even remotely possible.

The rest of the Bulgarian team seeker’s body language was, Harry thought, a bit tense but he didn’t think the older teen was holding a position like he was injured and trying to shield that spot from further damage. So with little else to go on, Harry decided that would have to be enough.

Keeping the form shifting kelpie in his periphery, Harry turned his face more directly toward Cedric. “ **Is there a particular reason you two were playing squash with the poor kelpie**?”

The Hufflepuff jerked, surprised to hear him speak so casually underwater. “Fleur is checking the cave for runes for us while we keep it away!” Cedric shouted back, though his voice was slightly muffled by the water between them in a way Harry’s had not been.

“ **Fair enough.** ” Harry replied before turning his attention more fully on the beast as its form began to stretch, and stretch, and stretch. “ **Well, that can’t be good.** ”

They watched as its form seemed to settle, the skeleton ceasing to stretch and the flesh ceasing to writhe on its bones and it bore the somewhat familiar form of a sea serpent that stretched even longer than Harry’s animagus shape.

And had a truly wicked array of needle sharp teeth.

There was something to be said about being confronted by a known devourer of humans wearing the form of a creature large enough to do so in one gulp.

“ **Cedric, be a dear and help Fleur. I think this is about to turn quite messy. Viktor if you can get a clear shot your strongest stunners won’t knock it out but they should slow it down**.” Harry instructed quickly before he quickly reared back to bring his arms and claws up to grapple with the transformed creature as it charged them.

He felt the wind knocked out of him as it slammed into him then again when their twisting mass of scaled flesh slammed into the rocky outcropping next to the cave entrance but he had no time to recover as the creature reared its head back before making another lunch for his neck, needle teeth at the ready.

Harry jerked his long neck and head to the side, narrowly avoiding the lunge and he could feel the rest of the long body trying to coil further around his own in a stranglehold.

Quickly he brought his hind claws up to kick at the winding serpent body, tearing an enraged shriek out of it when one of his claws managed to get enough purchase to cut into its softer underbelly scales.

The dragon-king tried to twist their bodies around, to drag them further away from the mouth of the cave so Cedric could get past them and get to Fleur so they could both -- hopefully very soon -- get out and away but was only marginally successful.

For all the Ministry of Magic had classed Sea Serpents as a XXX creature, they only had that rating because they were rather docile creatures when all’s said and done. They were however immensely strong, which was why some particularly powerful or rich magical individuals used to utilise sea serpents to pull their ships in calm weather when the winds were low.

As powerful as Harry knew his animagus form was, most of that was magic orientated rather than raw physical strength. Much better than a human was capable of certainly, but still a bad matchup when pit against something as physically mighty as a sea serpent. Which said quite a lot about the kelpie if this was the form it knew to take for a serious fight.

Just faintly in the struggle Harry felt something brush against his tail before the sensation was gone.

He decided to hope that it had been Cedric struggling past them since he could not take his attention away from the transformed kelpie, even for the brief moment it would take to check.

It lunged again, teeth first at his face and he jerked back to avoid it before attempting a retaliatory snap of his own swordlike teeth and was momentarily vindicated in the way it lurched to the side to avoid it.

A flash of red from somewhere behind it let him know that Viktor was trying to help, though honestly it didn’t feel much like it was helping as their bodies roiled and his back was slammed into the side of the outcropping again.

He quickly kicked out again to keep the transformed kelpie from wrapping around more of his body and one clawed hand had to move away from its neck to try and deal with the coil that had managed to wrap around his ribs. The coil that was beginning to squeeze awfully tight.

With one hand still pressed against the creature's neck to try and control its head a little and minimise its chances of snapping at his own face and neck, Harry kept periodically kicking out with his legs while he used his other hand to claw at the coil around his chest.

Another surge from the serpent shaped creature slammed his lower back into the rocks and Harry felt the air being driven out of him by the sudden sharp pain, enough awareness of mind to know that some of the blood clouding the water was now his own.

Flashes of spell-light continued to periodically light up the murky water though it was slightly dimmed for Harry as he closed the nictitating membrane of his eyes to protect them from the dust and debris that was being kicked up into the water around them in the struggle. It was a slight risk, but his senses were strong enough to still easily make out each savage lunge of the hissing, snapping maw in front of him.

He heard a muffled shout from somewhere off to his left at the same time he felt the creature suddenly jerk, spinning them a little on the spot as it tried to shake off the claws he had managed to dig into its underbelly.

All at once Harry felt an intense wave of vertigo as a spell he didn’t recognise collided with his exposed, rock shredded back and he felt the strength in his arms and legs momentarily slacken.

He had a brief moment to think that there were probably quite a few people that were going to have their very best angry-worried faces on before his mind cleared enough for the pain of the dagger like teeth lodged in his neck to break through the fuzz.

Harry roared in pain and his limbs quickly kicked up to redouble their efforts, to retake the ground he had lost. Both clawed hands rose to tear at the creatures exposed neck to force it to release him, even though he felt one or more of his ribs crack or break with his off hand no longer there to keep the coils from utilising their full crushing strength on his ribcage.

Eventually it reared back, shrieking and Harry kept at it, pressing what little advantage it had given him. He managed to reverse their positions, clamping his own jaw around its impressively thick neck, or at least enough of it to maintain a decent hold and used his magic to propel himself upward, dragging the serpent shaped creature with him.

Upward and upward he pushed himself, up past the surface of the lake and high into the air, dragging the sea serpent kelpie up behind him, dangling from tooth and claw before he arched in the air and propelled them to drop headfirst through the air.

Back towards the lakes churning surface.

Down and down they sped, hissing and shrieking, writhing in the air as the plummeted, spiralling back towards the water.

They crashed through it with an enormous splash, their weight and momentum keeping them falling until they slammed into the rocky outcropping that housed the underwater cave the others had been investigating, the kelpie maneuvered to impact first. Despite not being the one to take the full brunt of the hit, Harry still felt the shock of it rip through his body, up his arms and legs where he had been latched onto the kelpie holding it in place and through the length of his spine.

With the creature momentarily stunned, Harry carefully pulled away and as quickly as he could whipped around and caught sight of the three other champions, wide eyed and shocked looking as they were and launched himself toward them. He scooped all three up mid motion and kept swimming, using his magic to propel himself faster in hopes they’d get a safe distance before it came to its senses.

When he chanced a glance back at it, he caught sight of the giant squid, the most famous -- or infamous -- denizen of the lake and came to the conclusion that it was keeping the transformed kelpie from chasing them. With that in mind he allowed himself to slow.

“Harry, you are bleeding.” Fleur told him one they finally came to a stop in a relatively clear spot and he had let go of them.

He inclined his head. “ **Quite a bit, I imagine**.” He said and carefully twisted his body so he could get a look at his back as he spoke. He grimaced at the raw patches of ripped up scale and fur and the jagged wound that was steadily oozing blood.

“Will you be alright?” Cedric asked anxiously from beside the Beauxbaton champion.

Conjuring a mirror in the water in front of him Harry carefully scrutinized the mess the transformed kelpie made of his neck and relaxed minutely as he noted a lack of missing flesh that would have meant it had managed to take chunks of flesh out of him, and a lack of spurting or rapid pulsing from the blood that was making the water around the wound a hazy red.

“ **Yes. Though wounds to the neck tend to be far more dangerous this one appears to have missed nerves and vessels entirely, it’s just a flesh wound. Painful, but not not imminently life threatening. The wound in my back is the more worrisome, it will have to be carefully cleaned since there’s no telling how much filth managed to get into it in the struggle. For now I’ll have to focus on stopping the bleeding so we can get this task finished, then it can be properly examined and treated**.” He assured them calmly as he very carefully prodded at his neck wound.

“Maybe you should get a medi-wix to look?” Fleur suggested, frowning a little at the sluggish growing smoky rivers of red in the water.

“ **That would be a little redundant. Didn’t I tell you I passed my medi-wizard certification last month**?” Harry asked as he carefully directed spells at himself to staunch the flow of blood and carefully wrap both wounds so more mess wouldn’t get into them.

“No, congratulations!”

Cedric gave him a lopsided smile, though he still looked a little shaken. “Nicely done, Harry.”

“ **Thank you**.” Harry replied and lightly bumped his much larger fist against Viktor when the elder teen held his own out. “ **Right, this should hold well enough for me to hunt down the rest of the runes I need to finish this task. After that I can submit myself to the tender mercies of my Healer for a closer inspection and treatment**.”

“Harry, inside the cave. We found _Fehu_ and inverse _Thurisaz_.” Fleur told him as he was starting to turn. “You helped so you should share in the reward.”

He inclined his head in thanks and drifted back a bit so he could turn his large body without bumping into any of them, before putting some distance between them to continue his search of the lake, grimacing a little to himself as each forward propelling sway of his body pulled at his painful wounds.

Maybe if he was really, really lucky, they’d decide the last task had to be a knitting competition or something else relatively safe.

Then again, Ruknukle had done quite a thorough job illustrating the effectiveness of quite a few improvised weapons, knitting needles included. 

So maybe not.

Bloody hell, Sirius was going to ground him for forever for this. He just knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely grounded forever.  
> Join us next week for the conclusion of the third task and probably a lot of hugging. ^__^"


	37. The Boring Marauder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wraps up his side of the third task while tripping into an existential crisis of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Tuesday!
> 
> Sorry I missed the normal Monday post, I've been a tad under the weather the last few days and my body has decided it wants to try to sleep it off. Which means my new sleep record now stands a 18 and a quarter hours of uninterrupted sleep.  
> Which for the record actually feels more exhausting than it should be, since sleep is meant to be restful.
> 
> Hopefully the chapter came out relatively cohesive, though honestly Harry might be as scattered as I am this week. >__>"
> 
> I'm back off to crawl into bed for some more rest, as crazy as that feels at this point. @__@

#### 22nd March 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

Harry had been swimming for almost five minutes to the very second when he abruptly realized he probably could have asked the others what other runes they had encountered and offered up the couple he had spotted with his quick swim around the outside of the lake.

It would have been a decently fair trade all things considered.

Well, maybe it was a little stacked in his favour since the others were bound to the length of time of their charms while he himself could comfortably meander about, exploring this or that at his indefinite leisure.

It was one of the little -- or really not so little -- things that had started to shift his thinking just a bit.

It wasn’t that this task was geared to give him an easy win.

Someone on the organising committee had obviously decided to use his anomalous entry for their own purposes, turning Harry himself into another obstacle that the intended champions had to overcome. For all that they had all become friends or at least friendly acquaintances during their interactions thus far and as polite as they all were, it was still an unavoidable fact that while Fleur, Viktor and Cedric were the champions that represented their school and their respective student bodies, Harry was the outsider.

Harry didn’t belong.

So the idea to make the most of Harry’s perceived talents to increase the pressure the other three felt in each successive task so more and more they were struggling against the task _and Harry_ and it was probably only their amicable interactions thus far and the publicly dubious nature of his entry into the Tournament that stopped a certain sort of animosity from developing.

Not that Harry would have blamed them, for all that he might have been a bit hurt by the behaviour.

In short order he managed to find five other runes and it seemed that they had been liberally spread about at the deeper parts of the lake, almost like upending a bag of marbles and leaving them wherever they had come to a stop. Which was probably how they had gone about it, now that he thought on it.

The most common rune tiles used for learning purposes had two faces, positive and negative so that a student could more conveniently study the different positions of a particular rune. 

It certainly wouldn’t have taken much effort, Harry thought, to multiply a set then enlarge them to tablet size to make them easier to view in the dim lighting then toss them about at random in the lake.

It would certainly have explained why some of them were quite hidden, but several others were just haphazardly lying about. Because finding the correct ones needed to complete the task was much less important for this particular challenge than actually correctly arranging and using them.

Because it didn’t matter what you managed to find if you didn’t know how to make proper use of it.

Which coincidentally was the same lesson Ruknukle had taught him when they had first started in on his weapons training.

Well, one of the lessons at any rate.

Though it admittedly irked Harry just a little, going from being told he had to “find the hidden runes” then finding that they weren’t really hidden very well at all. He absently wondered if it was laziness on someone's part or if the person responsible for hiding the rune slates really just thought that poorly of the abilities of a bunch of seventeen year olds.

He absently wondered if the others felt the same mild level of insult or if his aching wounds were making him particularly grouchy.

Though on the subject of wounds it seemed like most creatures that called the lake home were giving him a fairly wide berth neither curious about him or intent on making the most of his current weakness to own low goals. Whether for food or dominance over an interloper in their territory.

He honestly wasn’t too sure what he had expected but even the merpeople gave him a wide berth, swimming well out of his way like a school of fish before a predator. Which was both understandable but also not quite on the mark either.

Because while Harry was rather large in his animagus form, large enough they had discovered to carry at least two grown men on his back when he flew, his particular species was just as sapient as the merpeople. Just as potentially friendly.

He decided not to hold the standoffish behaviour against them as he swam forward to examine the raised platform their parting had revealed and the rune tablets that were lined up atop it like an offering.

In the end it was their lack of opposition to his presence that made him consider something he hadn’t yet.

As insultingly easy as the task had been made for him, it hadn’t occurred to him that it might have been made that way for a specific reason outside of pandering to his position or his age.

But floating as he was at the bottom of the lake, surrounded by the merpeople that hid behind each other, gripped tridents and other tools and weapons, or merely kept their eyes averted in an obvious show of deference, Harry understood that the three rune tablets truly were an offering.

He was being _given_ everything he needed, just like he had in the previous task.

Everything he needed to make something new.

Something valuable.

To show keen observers how it was done.

Whether it was true or not was still to be determined, as was whether or not the semi-transparent ploy was malicious in nature or if it was some backhanded attempt to stabilise him atop the odd pedestal he seemed to have found his way onto.

Because it was one thing to pander -- whether to Harry himself, or the masses -- but it would mean something else entirely if someone had turned this whole farce of a Tournament into a means to steal his accomplishments at best. 

Or measure his abilities for some other -- potentially foul -- plot that would be sprung on him at some point in the future.

Or he could be imagining it all, which would be embarrassing.

Though given his steadily growing number of yearly exploits, he was more inclined to believe that he might be onto something.

His bump of trouble just knew something wasn’t quite right.

Pushing the thought aside as something to mull over later with his small council Harry instead scrutinized the offered runes.

Inverse _Kenaz_ , a lack of vision or knowledge, the absence of fire and creativity. _Dagaz_ to symbolise a breakthrough or an awakening. And lastly _Wunjo_ in the inverse position, a lack of joy or comfort. An absence of pleasure.

The basic array he had been presented with had been all about invoking a quiet sort of calm, with the runes Harry had found -- or been offered -- he knew he could build up an array that would do that and a bit more.

He took a moment to contemplate his rough plan before he turned and gave a nod to the individual that floated a little in front of the others, noticeably older whom Harry took to be the leader of the Lake’s merfolk commune and took his leave. Weaving his way carefully away from the mix of plant woven and stone constructed huts.

If he had his timing right, he knew that Fleur and Cedric would have approximately half an hour left at a maximum on their respective Bubble-Head charms. Which would drive them back to the surface unless they had managed to master the spell sufficiently enough to cast it silently.

Viktor’s partial transformation, though an impressive bit of self-transfiguration also had a very definite limit to its duration. Though that time was measured more against Viktor’s magic than any specific limits imparted by the spell that was used itself.

But even still, with the amount of power the older teen had had to utilise with the kelpie alone, Harry didn’t think his transformation would last much longer than Fleur and Cedric’s charms.

Which technically gave him an advantage, however if he dragged out his own underwater time by too much he might be docked points for the delay.

This was still a competition and as much as Ron or the Twins loved to keep telling him how much they and everyone else was looking forward to what mad thing he’d do next, Harry was sure there would be a point beyond what those people were willing to wait for the next spectacle. And beyond that cheerful veneer of expectation and patience lay a small horde of disgruntled and oft petty people.

And they would be petty, something he had come to understand the longer he spent time in the magical side of the world. People of magic, particularly the humans, tended to turn very petty and spiteful when they felt they had been insulted or wronged in some way.

He had seen it in Ron, in Snape, even in Hermione though she liked to pretend she was taking the higher road. Even Sirius and Remus could get a bit petty when the mood or inclination struck. The only person he had spent any real amount of time with thus far that hadn’t displayed the same trait was Neville. Though he was starting to think that Neville might be the wizard equivalent of a unicorn.

Definitely a rare breed.

As his self assigned time was drawing to a close he made his way back up to the surface with a last few runes floating about in the back of his mind, slotting into place like pieces of an elaborate jigsaw puzzle. He reasoned that the sooner he had it all plotted out in his mind, the sooner he would get it done when it came time to properly or paint the array, whichever means was set up while they were in the lake.

Breaching the water's surface at once made Harry feel both heavier and lighter, missing the almost weightlessness of the water and the resistance of it while instead buoyed in the air by his magic.

Back on land there was a large space cleared for him to land in and a selection of work tables set up not far from it. Each table had a small smorgasbord of tools that could be used when preparing a runic array for use.

Harry counted everything from engraving tools to needles and an assortment of threads of various thickness, colour and base type. They had even supplied each table with a quantity of metal threads which were more expensive than most of the more commonplace threads used for stitching arrays into fabric or hide bases. Though they weren’t as expensive or as rare as some of the thread that was crafted from the hairs of magical creatures or beings. Some of which he thought might also be present given the unnatural sheen some of the reels of thread had.

Settling himself down gingerly Harry took a moment to focus himself both in the here and now and on his body as he gave himself to the shift and promptly grimaced when his wounds seemed to ache that much more in his human body.

Movement to one side grabbed at his attention and he watched Mr. Bagman approach. “Har- ah, your majesty, are you well enough to continue?” He asked, stumbling over himself a bit. “Do you need to be seen by a healer?”

Taking a moment to take stock of the angry throb in his neck and back Harry thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “We may continue.”

The older man nodded quickly before quickly hurrying away to confer with the judges.

Glancing around again Harry noted that each of the other champions were already present and chatting quietly with their respective guardian school head for the moment and Viktor had his arms up at odd angles while Highmaster Karkaroff prodded at his ribs between questions. And Harry had to wonder if the older teen had been hurt before he had arrived to render aid against the kelpie or if he had run afoul of something unhappy after they had split up again.

He felt an odd little ache as he watched them.

Each of these other teenagers, adults in their own right in age and standing, with a wealth of life experiences to cheer and encourage them.

Meanwhile Harry, for all that he was an adult as far as his titles and responsibilities were concerned was still frustratingly a child, with a child’s experiences. With a sad child’s experiences.

And he stood alone.

Shaking his head briskly in a bid to shake off the morose line of thinking and wondered not for the first time of late where his mind was wandering off to.

Certainly nowhere good.

With a resolute mental note to bring it up with Frederick during their next proper sit down session, Harry half listened to Mr. Bagman as he started to explain the tools and purpose of the layout everyone that was watching -- either in the stands at Hogwarts or elsewhere -- was seeing.

Though really he was just passing off those explanations to Professor Bathsheda Babbling, Hogwarts Ancient Runes instructor when he started to stumble over even the more basic principles of the craft.

Mr. Bagman, Harry thought, did not do very well when forced out of his personal area of expertise. Perfectly charming and insightful when the topic of discussion came to Quidditch, but he really did seem to flounder quite badly when the topic turned to fields he was less than familiar with.

It made him a little curious how the man had managed to rise to the position he currently held.

Stepping up to one of the tables once they were given leave to begin, Harry reached for a block of dark gray stone shaped like an obelisk and settled it carefully in front of himself before reaching for the engraving tools.

There were several ways he could go about bringing his array out of his imagination and into the physical plane. It could be sewn into a quilt, painted onto a wall or ceiling. It could even be weaved into existence with naught but will and magic, though that way was by far the least permanent and the most complex.

Engraving into stone was a tried and true approach and the only thing better would have been etching it into crystal, which both held information far better and regulated magical flow much smoother than stone did. But it was in turn more expensive than even the metal threads, so Harry had settled on stone which he was just as familiar with thanks to his lessons with the goblin shamans.

His hands moved in easy rhythms as he worked, reminding him rather viscerally of his efforts to piece together the runic pieces he needed as the base for the truth curse that ran constantly in Skyfall’s high court chambers. Then again when he crafted the statues for the important Ministry offices that would allow for a temporary field of the same effect.

Back then -- and wasn’t it odd to think of it as if it had been years ago and not a short handful of months, Harry thought -- he had been near desperate for a way to make sure his own government didn’t at some point do the same thing the British Ministry had done to Sirius. To make sure they wouldn’t be the reason an innocent man woke up screaming, tearing at himself in horror when his unconscious mind saw fit to remind him what it had been like to be at the absolute mercy of a being that had none. That would tear tiny agonising bits of his soul away like peeling the skin of a fruit so sup on. Or because it amused them.

But Harry wasn’t desperate now.

He had no pressing need for the array he was meticulously carving into the stone face with his enchanted tools.

The only desire driving him forward was the one for a job well done.

There was no one to please but a panel of judges, no one's life was hanging on the line and a war wouldn’t break out if he somehow made a wrong choice here or there.

For all that he had poopooed the whole Triwizard Tournament for being a horrible mess almost from the ground up, Harry had to admit that these moments, both in the second task and in this one where all he had to do was buckle down and create something, were oddly gratifying.

It made him wonder if he shouldn’t try to muscle in some time during his week to work on something that had nothing to do with his role as king, or with building a city -- an entire nation -- from the ground up.

Almost everything he did could be tied back to it, even when he was blowing off steam running through the training courses Sirius had designed for their law enforcement, of which they already had a few successful candidates pass the rigorous training and testing they had set up, though given the peaceful nature of the city they’d had little to do but patrol the streets and partake in further training. As fun as Sirius made it, it still tied in to his responsibilities since he would no doubt use those skills he was learning to protect his people should the need arise.

Even working with the Twins on the different pieces of merchandise for their shops was exactly that, work. 

Fun work, most definitely. It was impossible to spend any real amount of time around them and _not_ have some degree of fun.

But fun work was still work, something done for a cause with a goal in mind that would have a distinct need or benefit beyond entertainment.

He absently wondered for a moment if he even _had_ hobbies anymore.

He still enjoyed flying, though he didn’t need a broom for that anymore and Volstar didn’t have any Quidditch teams -- nor even a pitch yet -- for him to watch or play with. He enjoyed reading but most of his material was instructional or at least some way academic in nature and the few books he picked up for fun ended up being memorised in the first reading. 

Because as it turned out he couldn’t read anything _without_ memorising it in its entirety.

He’d checked.

He didn’t really enjoy dancing all that much, though he knew how not to make a complete tit of himself thanks to the Yule Ball. So that was out. The same could be said for singing, though he had found out he could carry a tune, even if he didn’t have that natural spark that made a singer, a singer.

The puzzles Akihito had introduced him to and kept sending with his letters were interesting and he did enjoy them, particularly the more complex puzzle boxes. But even those proved too easy to keep him from finishing rather quickly so they didn’t really keep him entertained for very long at all.

They were still rather focused on working on building their core structures so unless a family member of one of their head hunted citizens was in the business of entertainment, and more importantly building such a venue, there wasn’t much in the way of pool halls or arcades or theatres for Harry to haunt.

He absently wondered if he had just been too busy to notice that he’d been rather bored lately.

Abruptly his busy hands came to a stop and his glowing green eyes widened as a thought occurred to him.

Had he become _boring_?

Did he really just sit around all day working now?

Maybe that was why the Twins had taken such an interest in dragging him off whenever they got a chance.

Maybe they were trying to fix him.

Oh, Merlin.

Was he an embarrassment to the Marauders?

To Sirius?

Did Sirius think he was boring now?

His godfather hadn’t said anything of the sort, true, but maybe he was just trying to spare Harry’s feelings?

Remus was too polite to call Harry a bore, so he wasn’t an accurate gauge on the state of things.

Most of the other people Harry spent his time with were all both older and rather professional in their behaviour. Which was to be expected since most of their conversations and interactions revolved around work related topics. 

He didn’t get to spend any real time with anyone his own age -- Malfoy didn’t count -- since all his friends were still stuck in school and he couldn’t just drop in and disrupt their education.

He was pretty sure Ron would thank him, but he was absolutely certain Hermione would either chide him or wallop him with one of her thicker books.

His hands returned to their work on the runes while the less busy parts of his mind continued to ponder over the predicament he had inexplicably found himself with. 

The most obvious solution was of course, to do something interesting. To find a new hobby to enjoy that would take up a little time but give him something else to share with other people and give him a potential avenue to make new friends.

There was of course his old idea of taking concepts from science fiction novels he had read and finding a way to replicate some of them with magic. Automated charms on vacuum cleaners and other cleaning tools, coffee pots or teapots that would automatically fill themselves at programed times so a fresh cup was always there ready to greet you in the morning. Automated heating and cooling charms built into homes and offices to help maintain comfortable temperatures without intervention.

Or maybe he could finally get around to convert mundane cinema and take home movies or telly to magical versions.

As isolated as Volstar was, they didn’t really have to worry about non-magical folk stumbling across things they ought not to.

The idea of having their own television stations to broadcast the news or a gardening show or even one of those daytime dramas that his aunt Petunia practically lived off but pretended were beneath her, honestly was rather appealing.

It would give them a wider range of sources for entertainment and dissemination of news rather than strictly relying on the newspaper or the wizarding wireless.

Nodding absently to himself Harry made a tentative agreement with himself to start looking into it while he waited on news from the research teams he had been able to send to India about his not so little Horcrux problem. Hopefully if that went well it would pave the way for a more personal visit.

Project done, Harry absently raised a hand to announce its completion and readiness for judging while he settled back into a conjured stool to contemplate his new side project after he’d finished explaining his intent and methodology.

Meanwhile he could spend a bit of time contemplating the prospect of wix versions of old muggle shows like ‘Are You Being Served’, ‘Allo Allo’, ‘Eastenders’ or ‘Coronation Street’.

Or even better, ‘Dr Who’.

There were so many possibilities, really.

They could make their own cartoons with accurate magical superheroes for kids.

There were so many possibilities, all he had to do was figure out how to make it work.

No big deal.


	38. Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deciding he needs some quiet, Harry steals away into a familiar office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, Happy Tuesday.
> 
> Not much to say about this one. It feels a little bite-sized compared to the 'normal' chapters though it's not much shorter, I think it might be my reading preference rearing its head again.  
> We get a taste for a few little titbits in this chapter, though I'll hope you'll forgive me for not going too deeply into detail. This one was mostly to put the idea out there.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, I'll see you all in the comments or on Discord! *waves*

#### 22nd March 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.

Harry spent just long enough after the results were announced to chat with the other champions, congratulate Viktor who had tied for first with him, pose for pictures for the papers and give a brief interview to go along with it.

Once those were done he took off, popping himself up into Headmaster Dumbledore’s office and plopped himself down behind the desk into the older man's chair with a glance to where Fawkes was having a nap on his perch. Rummaging for a moment, he helped himself to a piece of parchment paper and a quill before he quickly got to work putting the ideas in his head down on paper so he could work on each part properly.

Ideally he would have waited and asked before simply taking some of the headmasters things, but the older man had made it clear multiple times now that everything kept in his office was freely available for Harry’s use should he ever need it. Which just meant that he had probably gotten sick of Harry constantly asking if he could borrow this or that book while he had been ploughing through the books in Albus’ and the school's library months ago.

Which was fair, he thought. There was realistically only so many times that someone could interrupt him while he was working before Harry started getting cranky.

As patient as he always seemed to be, Harry didn’t doubt that the old headmaster was much different.

Though admittedly he was perfectly capable of conjuring up his own stationary at a whim and a thought. There was just something fundamentally satisfying in knicking someone else's for use.

He was six diagrams in, and had run out of pilferable stock and thus required to conjure his own anyway when Albus Dumbledore finally appeared and sat himself down in one of the well stuffed chairs that were usually reserved for visitors.

“I think I should warn you that Poppy is rather put out with you for vanishing before she could examine your injuries.” The old man informed him, letting his withered hand fold and rest in his lap.

Harry nodded absently, having expected as much. “I’ve already run through all the basic first aid care that needed urgent doing. The rest can wait a bit while I get this done, otherwise I won’t be able to sit still long enough for the balms and the like to be properly applied.”

Dumbledore sighed but nodded. “I had assumed that had been the case, it was plain to see that your mind was elsewhere while you were crafting your array. Which was still very good work, might I add.”

“Thanks.” Harry responded absently before he abruptly stopped working and fixed the older man with an intense look. “Do you think I’m boring?”

Albus blinked, taken aback by the question then settled back in the armchair to properly weigh the question. “I’ve known a few people in my years that I have felt to have been a bit dull, a little boring. Either in terms of conversation or in action, both men and women and those who are other. Most commonly it was their unwillingness or otherwise an inability to engage in anything new.”

The boy king cocked his head as he frowned thoughtfully. “How so?”

“The same conversation topics over and over, almost to the point of having the exact same conversation repeatedly. Not being open to trying new things, I’ve found, can lead to a person becoming bored and in turn boring to other people. The lack of new experiences either first hand or from an outside source, I think may be the main culprit. Or rather a lack of openness to those experiences.” The old headmaster told him, frowning a little himself as he thought on the topic and certain individuals he had encountered over the years. “I’ve always thought that you were rather open to new ideas and experiences, particularly first hand ones.”

Harry thought about that before nodding slowly. “I never really had a chance to try new things before I started here at Hogwarts. It felt like everything was so very different from what I had grown up with and there wasn’t really anyone telling me I shouldn’t.” He added with a shrug.

It had been quite the opposite in fact, instead of being held back from the new things he saw he had had people coming from left and right telling him he _needed_ to try this or that. He had been inundated with new things and encouraged -- near to the point that it was a demand -- to try everything. To slake his curiosity.

Some of the things he had tried had been less keenly received than others, he still didn’t think he would ever enjoy the sensations that went with eating ice mice and feeling the sweet treat wriggle all the way down. But others had been wonderful and had in turn enthused him towards trying other new things.

“May I ask what brought on this particular trail of thought?” Albus asked curiously, expression calm as he regarded Harry evenly.

Harry shrugged his glowing eyes slipping down to stare at the spread of diagram filled parchment in front of him. “I don’t know. All I seem to really do lately is work, on building or cultivating relationships with other communities or training.”

“And you are concerned that this has made you less interesting?”

“Sort of?” Harry muttered. “It’s a stupid thing, really.”

“You know, as I continue to get older, I find that very few things are ever stupid.” Albus countered with a small smile. “Frightfully foolish, sometimes silly or bafflingly bizarre, certainly. But rarely stupid, no matter how we might sometimes feel otherwise.”

“Nice alliteration.” The boy king said and got a wink in return. “Since we worked out a stand-in post system with the help of Gringotts, I’ve been exchanging weekly letters with Ron and Hermione. So they’ve been keeping me up to date with everything that’s happening around them. What they’re learning, how the quidditch matches are going, who’s been seen snog-err, dating who.”

Harry shifted in his borrowed seat, one hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

The old headmaster merely smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling merrily. “The many concerns of youth.”

“Right, so, there’s all that. But then all I have to write back about is stuff they’re probably not really interested in anyway.” Harry muttered, shrugging half-heartedly as his eyes settled on his work again.

“Oh, I’m sure Ms. Granger is heartilly interested in anything and everything to do with building a nation, particularly its laws and government. She’s developed quite an interest in the subject lately.” Albus told him calmly. “As for Mr. Weasley, I have myself overheard him on more than one occasion sharing news that you’ve shared with him with your former housemates. He was quite excited to share details of your new auror training program, if I recall correctly.”

The teen sat back and watched the borrowed quill dance between his fingers as he twirled it about. 

“I think you’ll find that despite the distance, despite no longer seeing each other everyday that you haven’t grown as separate or as different as you seem to fear. The bond you three share was forged in adversity, in a common struggle and nurtured by your own wish to find the common ground between you. These sorts of bonds are not so easily broken or cast aside.” Dumbledore assured him quietly, blue eyes studying him as Harry studiously avoided looking at him or meeting his gaze.

A rare show of discomfort on his part.

“They’ve been fighting.” Harry all but whispered.

The older man nodded. “Indeed, long enough that more than a few people have noticed, myself included.”

The teen frowned. “Fred and George said they’ve been fighting since the Yule Ball.”

“It certainly seems that way.” Dumbledore agreed.

“Do you know why?”

“I’m afraid I do not. The cause for the original disagreement remains between them.” Albus told him with a sad shake of his head. “As for why they have not as yet put their disagreement behind them...I’ve found most often the common cause for such is unfortunately, pride.”

Harry opened his mouth to comment but closed it again while he thought about it. It only took him a moment to come to the conclusion that both Ron and Hermione were quite prideful and were equally the type to believe they were right in any given argument they had. When Harry had still been a student at Hogwarts, had been there with them each and everyday, he had often played the mediator between them. He had been the one to give perspective and to talk them down from their huffs and grumbles.

But he wasn’t there anymore.

And he couldn’t mediate a fight that he hadn’t even been aware was going on.

He wasn’t there to make sure they pulled their respective heads out of their asses or out of their books or wherever else they might have buried it, to make them see that whatever had happened shouldn’t get in the way of their friendship.

They wouldn’t still be fighting if he hadn’t left them to begin with.

Although he was admittedly very conveniently ignoring the fact that they had frequently gotten over some of their past protracted bickering matches because he had managed to get himself into a pickle that necessitated their putting their temporary differences behind them.

The same thing had happened every year so far.

Case in point, Harry leaping on a troll in their first year. Hissing in his second and chasing a supposed ghost in their third.

Every year they’d fight in differing levels of intensity that would be tapered down by the odd nugget of wisdom, pointed look, or his seemingly imminent demise.

On one hand it was touching that they cared enough to keep risking their own necks to help keep him safe -- though obviously not ideal -- but on the other it realistically shouldn’t take someone’s life being on the line for two people to put their differences behind them and make up.

Sighing in frustration, Harry let the quill he had been playing with fall from his fingers and reached up to rub at his face as if by the mere act would banish the problem. “They’re not going to make up until I make them, aren’t they?”

The old man inclined his head slowly, expression shifting to one of quiet reserve. “That seems, most unfortunately, to be the likely scenario. At least as far as I’ve been able to divine of the current situation. Triad’s, either born or friendship or other more complex emotions and goals, are terribly fragile for all the reasons that they are strong.”

Pulling his wand from his sleeve the headmaster conjured three sticks of differing colours; orange, brown and black, an easily identifiable representation of Ron, Hermione and Harry. A gentle swish had the sticks trying to lean against each other in various combinations.

The teen watched as the sticks fell alone, and again when two of them tried balancing together until finally all three were leaning against each other, balanced just right with each other stick so each supported the other two.

“Three stands stable where the one or two alone would topple, against gravity and those other forces that would normally lay them low.” Albus told him gently before he reached out and plucked the black stick away, causing the other two to fall. “But you see, they are each wholly reliant on each other being there to support them that should one of those no longer be there, they topple.”

Harry stared at the sticks, watching the orange and brown ones roll to a stop on the desk.

“It is on this principle that our ancient covens are formed and maintained, each witch or wizard carefully considered so that balance can be achieved and maintained. Because we understand, in the quiet depths of our core what becomes possible when we each have the necessary support.” Albus said, reaching forward to gently set the black stick down on the desk between the other two. “It is also why, despite our muggle neighbours struggle with the notion, we children of magic do not instinctively shy away from true partnerships, romantic or otherwise, with more than one person. We each to some degree feel the pull to gravitate and join with those that can balance and uplift us.”

Humming quietly, Harry thought on that.

Several of the tomes he had studied had either mentioned or gone into some level of detail on the subject of covens and the balance between individual sources of magic. Primarily his arithmancy and ritual tomes, the notes also popped up in his healers manuals and charm texts. All of it pointing out the benefits and drawbacks of covens on this or that relevant to the topic at hand.

The most complex had been arithmancy, as usual. It had tackled mathematical formulae that measured both the individual members and the group as a whole, all with the goal of finding the perfect number that would bestow the greatest stability and the deepest well of shared power.

The problem being, despite the many benefits of being part of a coven, was that they required a certain level of openness and trust. Two things that had long been in drought in magical Britain. The very few surviving covens were quiet, private circles woven by families and bound in blood. Closed to the outside world and muted compared to the covens of ages long since past. Covens had apparently been, up until perhaps a decade post Grindewald’s fall, almost commonplace.

They had ranged widely in size, according to the bits of material he had been able to find, since each was heavily dependent on each person. Each piece of the puzzle, each strand in the weave. There could be no more than what could be actively supported by the other members combined strength, to bolster those that were sick or injured, those whose magic was drained or less abundant.

Because magical power was not the be-all and end-all that decided coven harmony, as long as a person had the spark of magic nestled in their soul, they could join with and be part of the greater whole. Be made stronger by the flame that burned between them. Be nourished by the Other, that for some was normally just out of reach.

It had been truly fascinating to Harry, to read an excerpt about a coven that had existed back in 1812. Each and every member a squib that housed the spark but by defect were unable to call up and channel their own power, whatever it had been.

But joined together, each equal to the other in the embrace of the circle, each could draw on the pool that formed between them. On the heart of their coven.

It had allowed them, who had been dubbed useless and blemishes upon their lines to perform rituals of their own. Though none had ever been able to use a wand, as wands were foci that helped channel a wixens own power, but they had not been lacking. They had tied their circle to a shared plot of land where they lived and toiled, a farm that was blessed by their rituals and that nourished them just as they nourished it.

But each of those coven members were carefully selected and weighed so each would add stability and strength without upsetting the balance and creating a discordant drain that would have pulled them each lower than they had been before their addition.

“Sirius mentioned a bit about that.” Harry admitted. “When he decided he needed to be sure I know about how sexual relations work out here as opposed to in the mundane world. The different biases and the like.That the acceptance of homosexual relationships dates back to when magical matchmakers were more common.”

Albus nodded, one wrinkled hand reaching up to stroke his long white beard. “Indeed. Back in those days to see a person with a partner was to know that that person was their ideal match in life and magic. Someone that would bolster their power and shore up their weaknesses much like a coven could. The saying ‘Magic is All’ dates to the same era and quite literally means, magic is all that matters.”

“But then the matchmaking fell out of favour, right?” Harry asked, trusting the older mans deeper well of historical learning.

“Quite so. Exorbitant costs for services, the rise of magical schools that were offering arithmancy and divination as subjects anyone could learn.” The old man sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Greed is truly one of the more short-sighted of our follies. It drives us to short term gain but often blinds us to the long term consequences of our actions.”

Harry hummed quietly, having certainly seen an up close example of what greed had done to Dudley who now had to get all his school uniforms custom made and who had never learned to be satisfied with what he had, thus was always reaching for more. “It would be interesting though, don’t you think?”

“What would?”

“If proper match makers made a comeback. Muggles have their own sorts, though most of them are con-artists that don’t actually know anything about astronomy, astrology or anything that could be used to actually determine matches.” Harry admitted, cocking his head to one side as he crossed his arms over his chest. “But Volstar at least has fair trade laws in place to protect consumers from price gouging, so we’d be less likely to run into the same problem. And even though technically just about everyone has the opportunity to learn the skills required, not everyone has the talent, so there’d still theoretically be a viable market.”

“Hmm, a number of things that were once quite popular have been making a resurgence of late. A few extra employment options in the futures of diligent students would be well received, I believe.” The older man agreed after a moment of quiet consideration. “The wars and all the efforts made to recover from their devastation did very little, I’m afraid, to bolster the job force.”

The young king inclined his head, glowing gaze moving to scan the bookshelves and the books they housed. Books that he had finished absorbing in their totality months ago.

The headmaster shifted, leaning forward just a little in his seat. “If I may ask, I was surprised not to see your Healer with you?”

“A few of our new residents were due to sit for their medi-wix certification so he stayed behind to oversee them since the original examiner fell ill.” Harry explained absently, mind still elsewhere.

“Your community has started to grow, slow and steady, if the odd news articles are to be believed.” The old wizard said, shifting the subject of conversation yet again.

“Yeah. We’ve been gradually recruiting people to fill specific positions first so we have a stable foundation of medical and educational personnel, ministry workers, et cetera.” The teen told him, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “So far it’s been working pretty well, so we should have a fairly solid work force already in place when we officially open immigration.”

“Ah yes, August I believe you said in one of your letters?”

Harry nodded, focusing back on his work in front of him. “That is the plan. I invited Ron and Hermione to visit over their summer break with their families so they get a chance to explore a little beforehand.”

“And give you a chance to mend some bridges?” Albus guessed, peering at the younger wizard from over the rim of his spectacles.

Huffing a sigh, Harry shrugged. “Well it doesn’t seem like they’ll work it out on their own, so it’s as good a time as any. And besides it’ll limit their ability to run away until they’ve settled things one way or the other.”

Reaching for a dish near the edge of the desk, the headmaster plucked it up and plucked a sweet from its confines, bright yellow with rounded edges. He popped it in his mouth and hummed appreciatively. “I shall wish you luck in your endeavours, however I don’t believe you will need it. Merely a kind shoulder and caring heart, and those are two things you have always had in surplus.”

He pondered the contents of the dish for a moment before holding it out to the young king. “Would you care for a lemon drop? I’ve always found I do my best thinking when enjoying a small treat and these have been my favourite since I was a boy myself.”

Eyeing the dish for a moment, Harry shrugged and leaned forward to extract one and popped it in his mouth. Almost immediately he winced and puckered around the sour lollie and had to wonder a moment about the massive walking contradiction that was Albus Dumbledore.

A man that loved sweets, but whose favourite sweet was in fact sour.

Light and dark.

Powerful and gentle.

Joyful and filled with remorse.

Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak.

A stranger man Harry was fairly certain he was unlikely to meet.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat about A Place Apart or lurk with other readers and get behind the curtain titbits, you may do so via the Discord Channel: Metalduck Garden ( https://discord.gg/krhgMsM ) which was created 1st Sept. 2020.  
> I'll be haunting it near constantly, so if you have more thoughts/questions than you can comfortably put in the comments, you're free to use the Discord as well.


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